“I'm glad,” he smirked. “I like it when you see my point.” My eyebrows shot up, and I snickered a quick laugh, to which he blushed furiously. “That's not what I meant. Oh God, that sounded dirty, didn't it?” My grin spread wider, and his thumb caressed my lower lip. “You have a grubby mind, sweetheart…”
“If only you knew the half of it,” I whispered, my tongue flicking out to touch his thumb in a teasing lick. He gave a pained groan then dipped his face in close to mine, pausing when he was just a fraction of an inch away. Warm breath fanned across my lips, and my heart was galloping so fast it was like a runaway thoroughbred.
“Hey! Who the hell are you?” an angry voice yelled at us, and we broke apart like guilty teenagers. A red-faced man in faded overalls was stalking towards us from across the road while he wiped his grease-covered hands on a rag.
“Oh, hi!” I called back, pasting a friendly smile on my face.
“I asked you who the hell you are.” The man glowered, stopping in front of us. The embroidery on his jumpsuit indicated his name was Frank, and based on the grease stains, he had likely just come out of the mechanic’s garage opposite us.
“We are just visiting,” Wesley answered with a friendly smile of his own. “We are heading to see someone at”—he fished a slip of paper out of his pocket with the address on it—“sixteen Coalstream Lane?”
Frank eyed us both with suspicion. “What the hell do you want with Vic? He's not here. Won’t be back for two weeks or more.”
“Vic? That's who lives at this address?” I blurted, smooth as ever. As if that didn't make me seem suspicious.
“What are you two doing with Vic's address if you don't know him?” Frank's eyes narrowed at us in anger. “We don't take too kindly to strangers around these parts.”
“Someone gave it to us and said Vic might be able to help me with some answers,” I replied, chewing my lip nervously. This guy obviously knew Vic, which wasn't so shocking given how small this town looked, so maybe he could put us in touch with him?
Frank snorted a humorless laugh. “Answers, eh? That's one thing Vic can give you for sure. Who was this 'someone' who sent you here, anyway?”
Wesley's hand tightened around mine for a second, and we exchanged a glance. He seemed to be warning me not to say too much, but the whole point of this trip to Alaska was to find information, wasn't it?
“We knew him as Mr. Gregoric, but he said to say that 'N' sent us…” As I said this, Frank’s bushy eyebrows shot up so high they almost disappeared into his floppy hair.
“N?” He clarified, “Just the letter?”
Wesley nodded. “Yeah, just the letter. You know him?”
A strange look passed over the man's face but was gone faster than I could catch what it was. He nodded sharply and tucked his greasy rag into his pocket.
“You need to come with me.” His tone accepted no arguments; his gaze was rock hard and uncompromising.
“Umm,” I glanced at Wesley in question, but he just shrugged. This was what we’d come here for, after all. “Sure…”
Frank jerked his head in the direction we had been going, indicating we were to follow him.
“I’ll text the guys and let them know what we’re doing,” Wesley whispered to me, and I nodded in agreement. Better safe than sorry.
“So, you know who this ‘N’ is?” I attempted to engage Frank in conversation as we walked but may as well have spoken Japanese for all the reaction I got out of him.
“Hey, buddy,” Wesley tried. “We came here for answers, so anything you might be able to tell us would be great.”
Frank cast a look over his shoulder at us that suggested we were morons but said nothing and continued leading the way down the street.
“Is this guy giving you a bad feeling at all, sweetheart?” Wesley asked me quietly, and I considered this.
“I think this whole town is giving me a bad feeling, to be honest. Ever since we got on that seaplane, I’ve been feeling anxious.” I rubbed at my arms, trying to squash the gooseflesh that had taken up residence the moment we’d boarded the small aircraft. “Let’s just… stay alert.”
After a few minutes of walking in silence, Frank stopped us outside a friendly-looking cottage. The gardens were meticulously manicured and lush, despite the dusting of snow over everything, and the front porch held a well-worn rocking chair.
Frank rapped on the door a couple of times before calling out, “Granny Winter?”
Granny Winter? I mouthed to Wesley, and he gave me a confused headshake. At least it sounded like a considerably less threatening situation we were walking into if it was an old lady Frank had brought us to.
“Frank? Shouldn't you be at work?” an old lady’s voice called back, and the sound of her footsteps reached us as she approached the door. Opening it, she blinked at us a couple of times, and I pasted on my very best friendly smile. The last thing we needed was for these people to think we were some sort of threat.
“You…” she breathed, staring at me with wide eyes. She had to be in her seventies, with snow white hair and a heavily lined face. Her milky blue eyes were glued to my face, and her lip curled up in… anger? Why would she be angry?
“You… how dare you show your face back here?” Her voice shook as she hissed the words at me, loaded with venom.
“Um… sorry?” I looked over my shoulder. Maybe there was someone standing behind me? Nope, no one there. “I think maybe you've mistaken me for someone else?”
The old woman laughed bitterly. “I would never forget that face. Oh, but you're going to regret coming back to Harrow, you demon. Frank, get her into the cage. I'm calling a meeting.”
“Woah, what the hell?” I backed up a step, my hands raised defensively. “Lady, I don't know you. I've never even been to this town before!”
Frank stepped towards me, his hand outstretched to grab my arm, but Wesley swatted it away from me.
“Don't touch her,” he warned in a threatening voice, which was exceedingly hot at a totally inappropriate time to be getting turned on.
Frank barely even acknowledged Wesley before raising his fist to hit him, which, incredibly, Wesley managed to dodge. Enraged now, Frank swung again, and I jumped back out of the way to give Wes some space to move. It was a short-lived fight though, as Frank clipped Wesley’s shoulder, making him stumble, then smacked him hard across the face, sending him flying across the porch, where he landed in an unconscious heap.
“What the fuck?” I screamed, attempting to run to Wesley, but Frank’s thick, greasy hand clamped around my arm, yanking me back.
“Do not mess with me.” I snarled, rounding on Frank, the first and only warning I would give him, but his grip was way firmer than any normal human’s would be. Experimentally, I pulled hard to break his grasp, but he held firm.
Well, that answers my theory about there being other supernaturals in this town.
Sizing him up, I was confident I could take him on, but two more rough-looking men appeared behind Granny Winter.
Shit. Chances were, they were also supernatural, and therefore I was screwed.