chapter 14
As she screamed, the eyes disappeared. She leaped for the door at the same time her grandfather barreled in, wild-eyed, a gun in his hand.
“Katie, what is it?”
“I saw it,” she whispered.
“What? What’d you see?”
And as her senses came back to her, she realized she couldn’t tell him. She was sure that what had been on her skylight had been more than just a werewolf: she was certain it had been the Hellhound. But either way she couldn’t risk her grandfather going to investigate.
“What?”
She wiped her forehead and managed an embarrassed, if extremely forced, smile. “Sorry. I — I guess I was having a nightmare.” She crossed her arms. “I feel like such an idiot.”
He visibly relaxed. “You need anything? Drink of water?”
“No, I think I’ll be fine,” she managed to say.
She strained her ears, listening for the sounds of something walking around on the roof, but heard nothing. Was it possible she had just imagined something staring down at her?
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” she barely managed to choke out around the sudden lump in her throat.
As soon as he closed the door, she wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against it. She thought of Beau’s grandmother stroking out because she had seen “a demon” at her window. Why would she and Katelyn both be getting visits? As far as she knew, Beau’s family had no connection to the werewolves.
Maybe it was because she knew there was something wrong and she told people.
Katelyn hugged herself even tighter. It was one more reason not to endanger those she loved. But she couldn’t just roll over and stay ignorant instead of asking questions that someone needed to answer.
Like who is killing people. And what happened here forty years ago.
A sleepless night led to a difficult day trying to focus at school. As soon as it was over, she drove over to Babette’s. Cordelia had once said that Babette was “gossip central,” that the store owner knew everything that was going on in Wolf Springs. Katelyn wanted to know what Babette knew about the killings — or even what the woman thought she knew.
Babette waved at her from behind the register as she entered, and Katelyn’s stomach tightened at the thought of talking to her. Katelyn didn’t know her well, but Babette had seemed very shrewd the first time they’d met. Katelyn was anxious that she’d reveal too much of herself from the questions she asked.
To her surprise, though, Babette turned away from her. It was then that Katelyn saw that the store owner was talking to a police officer in a khaki uniform — not Sergeant Lewis, so it had to be Wolf Springs’ other one, whose name she didn’t know. She was a woman, about five-eight, with heavy dark eyebrows, a round face, and brown hair pulled back in a bun.
A bolt of unease shot through Katelyn. Something about the woman was off and it was all she could do to keep herself from walking backwards out the door onto the street and running for her car. Babette’s brow was furrowed and she was drumming her fingers on the countertop. Babette was nervous, too.
Pretending to examine a couple of Fifties poodle skirts, Katelyn surreptitiously studied the shop owner. She could see the pulse in the woman’s throat beating hard and fast and she could smell the tantalizing scent of fear coming off her. What on earth could Babette possibly have to hide?
“Becky was in to buy a new dress just before she got killed. She didn’t say or do anything strange,” Babette said to the police offer.
“A new dress? Special occasion?” the officer asked sharply.
“A party, maybe. I heard that she was dating Trick Sokolov.”
The officer nodded. “Yeah, I heard that, too.”
No, no she wasn’t. She made that up, Katelyn thought, afraid for Trick. Except . . . that was what Sam had told her. Maybe Sam had been covering for Trick because Sam knew he liked Katelyn. Maybe Trick had been dating Becky, and did heartlessly dump her.
“Okay. What about Haley?” the officer was asking. “Did she say or do anything out of the norm?”
Babette shook her head, unconsciously running her fingertips back and forth along the counter. “You knew those girls, Luanne. They were lovely young ladies.”
Intrigued, Katelyn drifted from the skirts to some neon-colored fringed Sixties purses, which were hung on a display closer to the register.
“Well, thanks, Babette. I’ll be in touch if I have more questions,” the policewoman — Luanne — said.
Katelyn kept her head lowered, hoping Officer Luanne wouldn’t take the opportunity to interview the rest of the people in the store. There were only a couple of other shoppers, older women Katelyn didn’t recognize.
But the policewoman left, and Katelyn sagged with relief. She set down a lime-green purse as one of the two women scurried over to Babette.
“Was it awful?” she asked, and Katelyn blinked at the weird question.
“It sure wasn’t pleasant,” Babette said with a humorless laugh.
“I just know they’re going to ask me questions I can’t answer,” the other woman said, wringing her hands. And she, too, smelled of fear.
Katelyn blinked, surprised. The women weren’t werewolves. She had met the entire pack. What secrets could they be hiding that were terrible enough to cause them to be afraid of talking to a cop that at least one of them knew on a first name basis?
Did they know about werewolves, or were there skeletons in their own closets they didn’t want seeing the light of day?
Welcome to Wolf Springs, she thought.
“Now, Estelle, you have nothing to worry about,” Babette reassured the other woman. “I’m sure none of us have,” she said, much louder and more pointedly.
Katelyn didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t let her know she’d been eavesdropping. She set down the purse and glided soundlessly to a rack of dresses.
A glorious red dress caught her eye, strapless with a long, flowing skirt. Red was the color of boldness. And right now she felt she could use some. She took it into the dressing room to try it on and attempted to listen in on more conversation, but the bell on the shop door tinkled. She assumed the two shoppers had left.
The dress fit and she hurried to the register to pay for it. As Babette rang it up, she told herself to ask questions. That was why she had come.
“So, um,” she said, and she smelled Babette’s fear again. It was contagious. Katelyn didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing around this woman. So much for bold. “Thanks,” she said. She told herself she could come back another time, when she wasn’t so rattled.
“Of course, honey,” Babette said, without looking at her.
Katelyn’s cell rang. She fished it out of her pocket and realized when she saw that the number was blocked that it must be Cordelia or Dom. She grabbed her purchase.
“Thanks,” she said again as she struggled to get out the door.
“We have better reception inside the shop than out there,” Babette said.
“Thanks, it’s okay,” Katelyn replied, practically tripping over a mannequin in her effort to get somewhere private in time to answer the phone.
Once on the street she had to risk it. “Hello?” she answered, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Kat.” It was Cordelia, sounding tired and upset, nothing like the girl Katelyn had first met. Being away from her family — from all she had ever known — was changing Cordelia. Turning her into someone far weaker. Or is it from being around the Gaudins?
Katelyn wrestled her Subaru’s door open and threw the bag inside, following it quickly. She slammed the door closed.
“I’m here,” she said.
“Have you found the mine yet?”
“No,” she said, hating to admit it. “But I have that sketch of the heart-shaped rock and the waterfall that shows the entrance to the mine. Now I just have to figure out where they are.”
She had only spent a couple of minutes staring at the sketch, just enough to realize they were identical to the elements of the painting that had been stolen from the cabin. She was fairly certain that that, and not the silver or other valuables, had been what the thief had really been after. But who else knew that her grandfather had owned the painting all this time?
“Kat, you have to find it. You have to help me.”
It was too much. Katelyn was sick of other people telling her what she had to do. Everyone was threatening her, telling her the way she had to act, the things she had to say. And all the while something was stalking her and she still had no idea who it was that had shot at her.
“You know, I’m doing my best, but I don’t understand what exactly the urgency is. I mean, you like Dom. You told me so. Do you hate him now? Has he hurt you?”
Cordelia sighed. “You don’t understand. How could you? This world is so new to you. Of course I still like Dom — I wouldn’t have called him if I didn’t. Even if it meant dying on my own. But this is so messed up. I don’t want to be cut off from my family, from my father and everyone I’ve ever known. Every minute I’m here I feel like a traitor. And that’s how everyone thinks of me. I’m going to have to declare loyalty, and I — I don’t know if I can do that.” She said the last words in a whisper.
“Didn’t you tell me your dad used to be into you marrying him?”
“If we formally allied the packs,” Cordelia said. “If I was alpha of our pack, like Dom is the alpha of his. Then it would have been sort of like one pack. But obviously, that’s not the case.”
“I’m doing everything I can,” Katelyn said, hearing her own misery.
“You need to do more and you need to do it soon. So, um, Dom . . . Dom wants you to spy on my family for him.”
Katelyn’s stomach did a flip. “No way,” she said.
“I know you want to be loyal—”
“This has nothing to do with loyalty. This is purely about self-preservation. They don’t trust me and they threaten to kill me every other day. Really don’t need to give them a reason.”
“You need to do this for me,” Cordelia said. “That’s reason enough.” Suddenly she sounded more like the old Cordelia — surer of herself, clear about what she wanted. My — our — pack is in trouble. Our family.”
“They’re not my family,” Katelyn insisted. The change in Cordelia was remarkable. When she thought of herself in terms of belonging to her pack, she was stronger.
“Even if I can’t be there, you’re there. And you have to be there for me.”
Katelyn heard a muffled sound and then the call ended.
The entire drive home she just kept replaying the conversation in her mind. When she made it home she headed straight upstairs, got out the sketch again and stared at the heart-shaped boulder in frustration. The real painting was supposed to have coordinates underneath the signature. Who had it? She thought of the piece of silver dropped outside the Inner Wolf compound. And the rest, simply dumped into a bog. Why? It seemed highly unlikely to her that one of the executives who was there for a few days would have managed to leave, break into her grandfather’s cabin, steal things, and sneak back into the center. Besides, they would take the silver, wouldn’t they? Why dump it in a bog — was that some kind of implied werewolf threat that they could poison Fenner land? They wouldn’t know about the painting. They’d be strangers to the area. So who would know there was a painting to steal?
Mr. Henderson.
Or . . . Jack Bronson?
Let the tire have a flat now, Katelyn intoned. Let the truck break down here.
She sat beside her grandfather in the cab of his truck as they bounced along the road, heading to the Fenners’ house for Thanksgiving. Mordecai had on the suit he’d worn to Cirque du Soleil and she was wearing the same black dress. She felt as if they were going to their own funerals. She’d briefly considered wearing the new red dress, but red was the color of blood as well as boldness and she didn’t want to give anyone any ideas. Every nerve was strung tight; she could feel each molecule of air touching her skin.
This is sheer insanity.
Mr. Fenner had ordered her to attend Thanksgiving dinner with the family. When she’d protested, explaining that her grandfather would expect her to have dinner with him, he had told her to bring him along.
“It’ll be like the old days,” he’d said happily. Regan, Justin and Doug had been in the room, and all they did was slide glances at each other and agree with him. Because he was their alpha.
Untroubled, her grandfather was whistling a Christmas carol. For all he knew, they were just going over there because Katelyn had a thing for Justin. She’d asked him to go, and with Trick spending the day with his mom and dad for once, he’d said yes, and here they were.
Finally they angled down the steep driveway, revealing the Fenners’ fantastic house, and Katelyn thanked the gods when she didn’t see a bunch of cars. She hadn’t known if the whole pack would be coming or not. Apparently, though, it was just “family.”
And us. If she asked her grandfather to leave, no questions asked, what would happen?
“Here we are,” her grandfather said, shutting off the engine.
They got out of the truck and walked up to the front door. Her grandfather was carrying a bottle of red wine. She rang the doorbell and Jesse, in a suit with his hair slicked back, opened the door.
“Kat’s here!” he hollered.
Katelyn winced, hoping he didn’t do or say anything that would raise a red flag with her grandfather who, after all, might or might not already know about the existence of werewolves.
“Hey, Jesse,” she murmured and let him kiss her cheek as he whined in her grandfather’s direction.
“You remember my grandpa?” she asked, heart in her throat.
“Not a stranger,” Jesse said slowly, almost questioningly.
Before either of them could answer, Justin appeared in the doorway. He, too, was wearing a black suit that fit him beautifully. Black was definitely his color.
“They’re our guests, buddy,” he said. “We talked about this. Let them in.”
She could hear the tension in his voice. He was nervous, too.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” her grandfather said, offering his hand.
Justin shook it, and after a moment, so did Jesse.
“Brought this.” Her grandfather held out the bottle of wine, and Katelyn glanced around, expecting Mr. Fenner to appear. He was their official host. Shouldn’t he answer the door to his home and welcome them in?
Maybe alphas don’t do that, she thought.
“Thanks,” Justin said to her grandfather. He held the bottle up to the light. “Wolf Creek Vineyards. That around here?”
“No, but I like their wines,” her grandfather replied.
They’ve brought us here to kill us, she thought, and then she tried to tell herself that that was crazy.
Justin and Jesse moved aside to let Katelyn and her grandfather in. A moment later, Katelyn found herself introducing her grandfather to Arial and Regan, who were both dressed up. Arial had chosen shiny gold to show off her blonde hair and her curves, while dark-haired Regan opted for a red cashmere sweater and black skirt. Katelyn’s heart began to pound, hoping the nasty, mean sisters wouldn’t do or say anything that would set off alarm bells.
Amazingly, though, they were both polite, seemingly on their best behavior. Their husbands were very cordial, and Katelyn couldn’t help but wonder if the alpha had ordered the good behavior, or if Cordelia’s two laid-back brothers-in-law had been able to wield some influence over their wives. Either way, Katelyn was grateful.
Lucy came out of the kitchen in a gray velour sweater and a black pencil skirt, looking much more sophisticated than Katelyn had seen her before. She gave Katelyn a hug that could not have been more awkward, and Katelyn forced herself to smile in response and hug the other girl back.
And then, finally, Mr. Fenner entered the room, also wearing a suit. His shock of white hair and tanned, leathery face belied his age. No one would have been able to tell that he was roughly the same age as her grandfather.
Wolf Springs was a small place and everyone knew about everyone else, but Katelyn had learned weeks ago that that didn’t necessarily mean everyone had actually met everyone else, and she had discovered that her grandfather had never met Lee Fenner before.
“Mr. Fenner,” her grandfather said, holding out his hand.
Lee took it. “Dr. McBride.”
Justin casually sidled over to her. “It’s okay, Kat,” he whispered.
“It’s not, and you know it,” she whispered back.
“So, it’s a good day to give thanks,” Lee said.
“I don’t know of a bad day to give thanks,” Mordecai replied with a smile.
Mr. Fenner slapped her grandfather’s back with a roar of laughter. They seemed at ease and Katelyn watched as Justin carried the wine bottle out of the room, then returned without it.
But this is still such a bad idea, she thought.
“Well, let’s eat,” Mr. Fenner finally said, leading the way out of the foyer to a formal dining room. The table and chairs matched the wood paneling of the simple but elegant space, punctuated by a fireplace and a large oil painting of an icy landscape.
Please let it be a normal Thanksgiving dinner with a cooked turkey, Katelyn silently thought as they were directed to their chairs by Regan. Mr. Fenner was seated at the head of the table and her grandfather took the seat at the foot. She sat next to him.
Because I’m the lowest-ranking pack member, she realized. It put her close to Lucy and Jesse. Arial and Regan flanked their father. Doug sat next to his wife, but Justin was placed next to Arial, with Albert on his other side, farther away from the alpha.
Interesting. The husband who had been chosen — Doug — ranked above the husband who’d been born a werewolf — Albert. She wondered what that was about. Maybe as Regan was older that gave her husband higher status. She didn’t actually know.
“You might know our family’s Scandinavian, originally,” Mr. Fenner said to Katelyn and her grandfather. “We say a traditional Norwegian table grace at Thanksgiving.”
Everyone bowed their heads, and all the Fenners, even Jesse and Lucy, murmured words in lilting language. Then Lucy, Arial, and Regan brought the food in from the kitchen. Soon the table was laden with white china serving platters of standard Thanksgiving fare. Katelyn had completely forgotten if the Fenners knew she was pretending to be a vegetarian, so she put a few small pieces of dark meat turkey on her plate and she could feel herself starting to salivate just like some kind of animal. Maybe she could pretend she was just being polite by eating it.
Conversation around the table was light-hearted, mostly gossip about people in town, but nothing vicious, just comings and goings. Her grandfather participated and didn’t once mention Cordelia’s name, for which Katelyn was thankful.
Maybe that was why Doug had been moved closer to Mr. Fenner — Cordelia’s spot at the table had had to be filled.
The adults were drinking wine, but she noticed no one drank very much of it. Her grandfather hadn’t even touched his and Katelyn wondered if they had opened his bottle of Wolf Creek.
She began to relax slightly, enjoying the banter and the gossip, and most especially the turkey. Then she glanced toward the head of the table where Mr. Fenner was presiding, sitting in his chair as if it were a throne. Without warning, the hair on the back of her neck raised. Something felt wrong.
Regan was now staring toward Lee with her eyes practically bulging. Katelyn swung her eyes to Mr. Fenner and gaped in disbelief — his chin whiskers seemed to be growing into a beard right before her eyes. She blinked and realized it wasn’t hair, but fur that was sprouting, and his jaw was beginning to elongate. He was shifting into werewolf form right there at the table for everyone to see.
She twisted to look at her grandfather, who was turning to say something, and did the first thing that came to mind — she swept out her hand, knocking his wine glass into his lap.
“Grandpa, I’m so sorry!” she cried.
He pushed back from the table as Katelyn half rose out of her seat to obscure his view of Mr. Fenner. Grabbing a napkin, she risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that Justin and Doug had both leaped to their feet. The werewolf form of Lee bared its teeth at them. Jesse began to bounce up and down in his chair and clap his hands in delight.
“Not at the dinner table!” Jesse shrieked.
“Oh, it’s everywhere,” Katelyn babbled, determinedly placing herself in her grandfather’s line of vision. “I — I spilled the whole glass!”
“No harm done,” her grandfather said, grunting as he took the napkin from her, bent down, and dabbed wine off his pants leg. And when Katelyn glanced up again, Lee Fenner was back in human form, rushing from the table, having burst the shoulder seams of his jacket.
“It’s really okay, honey,” her grandfather said, clearly assuming she was upset about the wine.
But it wasn’t okay. The entire table had gone silent. Lucy had a hand over Jesse’s mouth.
Her grandfather looked around, surprise on his face. “It’s fine, everyone. If you can just show me to a bathroom . . .”
“Of course.” Regan practically jumped out of her chair and headed in the opposite direction to that which her father had taken. “Just follow me, Dr. McBride.”
“Jesse, sugar, can you help me in the kitchen for a moment?” Lucy asked. “Arial, can you get some paper towels? Or maybe that’s where your daddy went?” she added pointedly.
Jesse got up and followed Lucy out. Regan left with Katelyn’s grandfather and Arial dashed from the room, obviously going to check on her father. That left Justin, Doug, Albert, and Katelyn.
“Lu, do you need me?” Justin called. He had gone white.
“That would be nice, sugar,” she called back. Justin pushed back from the table and left the room.
Coward, Katelyn thought, realizing she had newfound respect for Lucy. The young woman had taken charge. It was Lucy who was dealing with Jesse, not Justin. Lucy, who had prompted Arial to deal with Mr. Fenner.
“Damn,” Doug grumbled. “This is going well.”
“Doug, be careful what you say,” Al murmured.
Katelyn could feel the thick, underlying tension. And anger. Fury, even.
“It happened because he’s stressed,” Al added. “Having company. A stranger.”
“Should we leave?” Katelyn asked. She was positive her grandfather hadn’t seen anything, but was that good enough for the pack? What was going to happen to them now?
“Not for us to say,” Al told her. “Maybe you should go check on your grandfather.”
She hesitated, not wanting to move out of earshot of the two Fenners. If she and her grandfather were in imminent danger, they needed to get the hell out of there.
“Then who does say? Who should I ask for permission to leave?” she persisted.
They both regarded her with carefully blank expressions.
“I mean, I know I should usually ask Mr. Fenner, of course, but if he’s not feeling well . . .” She trailed off, confounded by their neutral faces.
“He’s the only one who can give you permission to do anything,” Doug replied, and his voice was kind. “It’s not like you’re used to, Kat.”
Justin reappeared. His face was grim. “Go check in on your grandfather,” he ordered her.
She heard a lot of shushing. Then Jesse’s giggle. Lucy’s quiet voice. Craning her ears, she heard the word, “Secret.”
Just as she was about to head off to the restroom, her grandfather reappeared with Regan. He was dabbing at his suit jacket.
“All better,” Regan said. “Luckily he didn’t get any wine on his nice white shirt.” There was a glimmer of what almost looked like grudging respect for Katelyn in her eyes. “Nice aim.”
“It’s okay, honey,” her grandfather assured Katelyn. He began to sit down, but Arial finally appeared with a roll of paper towels.
“Wait, Dr. McBride. Let me make sure there’s no wine on your chair,” she said.
“I’ll help you,” Katelyn murmured.
She bent down beside Arial, who glared at Katelyn, tore off a couple of paper towels with exaggerated care, and handed them to her. Arial’s hatred came off her in waves, and Katelyn did her best to ignore it.
“All better,” Arial said. “Have a seat, Dr. McBride.”
No, Grandpa, no. We need to get out of here, Katelyn tried to telegraph. But Arial gathered up the paper towels and walked out of the room again.
Mordecai sat down and Justin appeared with the uncorked bottle of Wolf Creek wine and a filled wine glass. Justin placed both before him with a flourish.
Katelyn opened her mouth to tell her grandfather that she wasn’t feeling well and needed to go. She’d just have to risk Mr. Fenner’s wrath by leaving without his say-so. But at just that moment, Mr. Fenner reappeared, his torn shirt replaced by a turtleneck sweater.
“Spilled,” he said briefly.
“Lots of that going around,” her grandfather joked.
“We have fresh rolls!” Jesse announced, bouncing on his heels as he carried in a wicker basket steaming with the fragrant odor of yeast and dough. “You eat them with butter! You can have honey!” He snickered. “We call people honey! But you don’t eat them!”
“Good joke, buddy,” Lucy said serenely. She smiled at Mr. Fenner as Jesse approached him with the basket. “Uncle Lee, fresh out of the oven?”
“Thank you, darlin’,” Mr. Fenner said, reaching in as Jesse beamed at him.
And just like that, the dinner in hell resumed.