Red Hot Wolfie Page 8

  “That was a different one.”

  “Thanks.” She tucks it in her pocket. “I’ve left messages via their website contact page but haven’t heard back from anyone yet. Guess when I told them to scram, they took it to heart. Some of the names they go by aren’t legitimate—they’re like stage names. I’ve looked into the backgrounds on several members, but none have turned up more than a few unpaid parking tickets and misdemeanors.”

  “Either Hargraves had an enemy,” Cinder says, crossing her arms, “or he stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have and was silenced.”

  Robyn nods. “No one knows where the PIT members are staying, and although they filled out an application for the permit to film on city property, the phone number listed goes to a voicemail account that says it’s full. If you see any of them, call me, okay?”

  We assure her we will and she leaves.

  “What do you think?” Cinder asks.

  I cash out the register. “Maybe Ren was trying to rescue him from the killer.”

  “Possibly.” She rearranges the display to fill in the spot left by the lime soap. “Or another animal did the damage.”

  “Ren told me he saw a man near the park last night, chasing a wolf. It appeared injured.”

  “Could he describe either?

  “Not really.” I place the cash and credit card receipts in a zippered pouch for Belle. “But I believe it might be Wagner.”

  “So maybe Hargraves and the wolf both stumbled on something the PIT team didn’t want them to see.”

  We fall quiet, going about our normal end-of-day routine and considering all the possibilities.

  “I don’t like any of this,” I tell her as she turns off the lights and we head to the workroom.

  “You definitely have to keep Ren in tonight.”

  When I have a moment to myself before dinner, I call Snow. “Have you seen Runa’s wolf mate lately?”

  While Runa lives with her, the hybrid dog’s mate—a full-blooded wolf—roams the woods. He’s mostly a loner, but occasionally hangs out with a small pack that comes down from the National Park.

  “Ferrin is in my barn with an injured left flank,” she tells me. “Broden tried to check it, but you know how Ferr doesn’t like humans.”

  I can’t say I blame him.

  She continues. “I called your vet, and he’s swinging by after the clinic closes to see if he can sedate him and take a look. Should be here any minute. Does he know he’s a were creature?”

  “I’ve explained it to him, but he’s having trouble wrapping his mind around it.”

  “Magick is like that for the non-magickal. A lot of them love stories referencing it, but when it becomes real, it freaks them out.”

  “I can’t imagine not wanting to discover magick exists, although being a werewolf would not be my first pick for supernatural powers.”

  “Ditto. Have you given any more thought to coming to work for me?”

  Snow lost her baker at Halloween and is searching for someone to fill her shoes. It would be an easy job with flexible hours, so I could continue on at the shop. “I’m outlining a plan that I think will benefit both of us.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it. Next week at Thanksgiving?”

  I hedge a bit. “Possibly, but I need to talk to Cinder and the twins first. Get their okay.”

  “I understand.” I hear Broden’s deep voice in the background. “Dr. Woolsey’s here. I better go.”

  “Don’t keep him long. He needs to come here before the moon rises.”

  “He’s staying with you?”

  I sure hope so. “I have a space set up for him. It’s the only way to keep him”—and everyone else—“safe.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I’m biting my nails as the sun sinks. “He’s not coming.”

  Cinder waits with me on the porch, the squeak of the rocking chair grating on my nerves as she calmly moves it forward and back. “He’ll show.”

  I pace. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Your chocolates.”

  I pivot and stop, gaping at her. “You’re giving them”—and me—“too much credit.”

  She smiles serenely and keeps moving. “He was charmed by you from the moment you draped your cape over him.”

  “That may not be enough.”

  Lenore dances on the railing. Clouds are rolling in from the west. Out in the woods, I sense creatures bedding down for the night as others wake. “He does owe me dinner after I tidied up his office and completely restructured his filing system.”

  “We’d be lost without you doing the books for us.”

  I put thoughts of Ren on hold for a moment. “Which reminds me, we’re out of coconut oil base again. The liquid, not the solid. Where is it going?”

  “I’ll give you one guess.”

  Her tone is a hint. I lower my voice. “Zelle?”

  A downward movement of her chin.

  “What is she working on?”

  Cinder flares her hands out in a who knows gesture. “She won’t even tell me which of Grandma Eunice’s books she’s testing recipes from.”

  I resume pacing. “It must be some kind of new beauty product she wants us to sell.”

  “Why doesn’t she come out and tell us, then?”

  Lenore makes a soft chortling noise in her throat to catch my attention. I pet her wings gently. “Zelle is unique. She likes to keep things secret until she perfects them.”

  “Which is why I haven’t bugged her too much about it. She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

  “As long as she doesn’t ruin my new kitchen in the meantime.”

  Cinder stands, stretches, and comes over to the railing. “You like it?”

  “I love it. I can’t wait to start on Christmas candies for the bakery next week.”

  The sound of tires on gravel turns our heads. Ren is here, driving into our parking lot behind the shop. The sinking sun glints off the hood.

  He waves and I return it. The relief I feel is palpable. “Thank goodness.”

  “See?” Cinder elbows me. “Told you so.”

  “You’re a wise big sister.”

  “You’re only now figuring this out?”

  She’s done so much to keep this family together and the shop running. “I’ve known it all along.”

  She squeezes my arm. “Everything’s going to be okay, Ruby. Enjoy your night.”

  As she disappears inside, Ren climbs out of the SUV. “I heard you’ve got a tower room made up and waiting for me.”

  Joking is good; maybe he’s accepted who he is.

  “For you? Always. How’s Ferrin?”

  “Cranky.” He goes to the back and lifts the hatch. “But he’ll survive.”

  “That’s good to hear.” I watch as he takes out a large, folded contraption. It looks heavy, but he carries it with ease. “What’s that?”

  He climbs the steps and Lenore greets him. He smiles at the bird and then at me. “A bigger cage.”

  “You didn’t tell me much about magick. What’s it like being a witch?”

  The larger kennel is better fitted to his size. My relief at seeing him was partly because we need to keep his beast contained, but also because, well, I like him.

  A lot.

  The click is there every time I see him.

  I hand him a caramel candy through the bars. We’ve padded his cage with blankets and pillows, and I’ve made another temporary mat next to it. While the new one is bigger and heavier, I’ve still used a spell to anchor it to the floor. “I love it. Magick is simply using energy in different forms to help people.”

  His fingers touch mine as he reaches for it. “Not everyone uses it for good, though, huh?”

  “Hollywood got that part correct.”

  He swallows the candy. “Is that why your candies are so tasty? You use some kind of magick on them?”

  I laugh. “I told you, I don’t use it for that.”

  He motions for me to hand him another. “Good to
know, but you don’t use it only to disable werewolves, I assume.”

  No reason to tell him I used it on his office. “I’m sorry for knocking you out last night, but you wouldn’t have come peacefully.”

  “Apology accepted. I should thank you for helping me. It’s still going to take me some time to come to grips with this.”

  Slipping a book through the bars, I’m grateful he’s come this far already. “Here, read this.”

  He examines the title and cracks it open. “Lycanthropy?”

  “This explains it as well as I can, and it offers a bit about hereditary genes versus the virus that causes it. I figured you’d want the scientific and medical information.”

  “I didn’t realize there would be any.”

  “I wasn’t sure either, but according to various sources I’ve found, werewolves have been around a long, long time. My fourth great-grandmother had at least a passing interest, since I found this on her shelf.”

  He follows my gaze to the spot. “She was a witch, too?”

  I nod. “You’re still a bit of a mystery to me. Your name and tattoo suggest you may descend from a shifter family, but the spell says you’re the type of were who shifts because of the moon.”

  “My name and tattoo are clues?”

  I relate what Uncle Odin told us about the Woolsey surname. “You haven’t remembered any more about your parents?”

  “I have actually. I don’t have any memories of my dad, never knew him. According to my mother, he was shipped overseas before I was born. Died on a mission in Turkey.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He toys with the book. “My mom was devastated. She went a little nuts after it happened. Grief can do that. I ended up with my grandparents, then mom disappeared. When my grandmother and grandfather could no longer care for me, I was adopted through the Catholic Children’s Services.”

  “So you may have gotten the genes from your father.”

  “Makes sense. My adoptive parents were nice folks, if a little reserved. They were traditional Catholics and quite strict.”

  He’s talking about them in the past tense. “Did something happen to them?”

  “While I was in vet school, they died within a year of each other. My adopted father had cancer and my mother…well, she had a heart attack after he passed. Seems like I keep losing people I love.” He flips open the book. “You’re lucky to have those you do.”

  “I am. Have you met the Redferns who live on the edge of town past Snow’s farm? Maybe you’re related to them.”

  “I believe I may be distantly on my mom’s side. It’s one of the reasons I moved back here. I didn’t know anything about my ties to them until a few months ago. A DNA test helped me track them down. We’ve spoken over the phone a few times, I simply didn’t put two and two together the other day when I only saw their first names in my call history.”

  “I bet they’re excited to have you here.” I also hope they’ll have some idea about his were-heritage. “They didn’t mention anything about staying inside during a full moon?”

  He chuckles. “Not that I recall. They seem pretty normal, so for now, I’d prefer to keep this between us.”

  “Understood.” I drink some of my tea. “When did you get the tattoo?”

  “The day I turned eighteen. It…called to me.”

  I bet it did. “You felt a connection to it?”

  “I designed it, actually, so yeah, I did.”

  “You’re an artist as well as a vet?”

  He chuckles. “Not at all. I simply knew what I wanted.”

  “That’s amazing. I wonder if your heritage was sending you a message.”

  “Like a wakeup call?”

  “Yes. Either way, it’s a beautiful design. I’ve never seen one like it.”

  Pride shows in his smile. “Thank you.” He reads in silence for a few minutes as I comb through a book Belle found in Eunice’s stash on curative magick.

  “I’m so glad you could help Ferrin,” I say, using my finger to mark a page.

  He nods without looking up. “There was swelling in his left hindquarters, probably from a blow to the flank. Nothing is broken that I could ascertain without an x-ray. He should be good as new once the puffiness goes down.”

  “Do you think he’s the same wolf you saw the man chasing last night?”

  Now his head raises. “I’m sure of it. What I’m not is if that guy meant to help or hurt Ferrin further.”

  I use my phone to find the PIT video channel. Poppi texted and said nothing has shown up yet with us in it. “Let’s see if you recognize this guy.” I scroll through the long list of videos and see one labeled “Werewolves Among Us,” then hit the play button and lean close so Ren can watch, too.

  Wagner and another man are in woods overlooking a rapid flowing river. It’s night and you can hear the howl of wolves in the background, but they almost sound staged. “Are werewolves real?” Wagner is decked out in his PIT clothing and the lighting is poor, but his features are clear enough. “We’re going to prove one way or the other tonight!”

  Another howl goes up.

  “Yep, that’s him,” Ren confirms.

  We continue to watch, my disgust growing exponentially with each minute. Wagner shows the viewers a camp they’ve made, and claims something was stalking around it the previous evening. The camera pans to a set of giant paw prints near one of the tents. “They came on silent feet,” he stage whispers to the camera. “They could have ripped us to pieces.”

  After that, there’s a lot more drama and scant evidence suggesting they actually saw anything, much less wolves, even though they set out bait and spend the entire night on watch.

  I click off. “Wagner and Jenny seem convinced there are possessed animals in our forest. Maybe he was chasing Ferrin to film him?”

  “Could be. He might have been following him to see if Ferrin went back to his pack.”

  “True. Ferrin is mostly a loner, although there have been a couple wolves in the woods on occasion that he sometimes hangs out with. I’ve never seen them, but Nonni and Poppi have. It’s sort of a misfit club, you might say.”

  “Like me.”

  His smile is sad. I’m not sure if he’s talking about his human self or his wolf.

  “You’re not a misfit, and now you know you have family. It’s good you’re here.”

  “I felt…called, you might say, to move to Story Cove. Sounds crazy, but I remember after speaking to my aunt, it seemed like destiny.”

  It’s definitely in his blood. “Have you ever had any of these types of experiences before? Waking up with no memory? Time lapses? Odd occurrences around the full moon?”

  “None.”

  “Then something has triggered it.”

  He sits up straighter. “Like what?”

  “I’m not sure.” I tap the book on my lap, considering an answer. “But it seems to coincide with your move.”

  A leather volume suddenly falls from one of the shelves. I see a faint outline of Eunice moving toward it. The book opens and pages flip, thanks to her nearly invisible hand.

  “What’s going on?” Ren grabs a bar and stares at it. “Are you doing that?”

  “One of my grandmothers.”

  “Come again?”

  “Along with my magick, I can see spirits sometimes. Eunice, the grandmother who established our family business, just popped in. This was her office.”

  The pages stop. She looks at me and points.

  Ren is still processing all of this. “You see ghosts?”

  My chances of landing a date with him are growing slimmer by the minute. “Belle claims it’s a gift,” I say as cheerily as possible.

  “Some gift.”

  Sighing, I rise and pick up the book. It’s one of Eunice’s collections containing various local legends.

  I scan the page titled Wood Walkers, Shamans of the Ancient Ones. “This is it.”

  “What does it say?”

  I read as fast as
I can. “It gives us a clue to what triggered your wolf.”

  “It does?”

  I meet his eyes and smile. “And now that I know that, I may be able to make a potion that can help control it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Morning arrives and Ren is still human.

  He has been all night, not even the slightest bit of wolf emerging, unless you consider his very loud snoring.

  Hope soars in me that we have finally figured out why he’s a werewolf, what triggered his genetic code to unleash it, and how he can control it.

  No one is surprised when we enter the kitchen together. An extra place has already been set at the table, as if he’s family already.

  Unfortunately, we are once again subjected to burnt toast and runny eggs, thanks to Zelle. This is why I took over the cooking when Mom died.

  When we’re all seated and digging into the food, Uncle Odin asks the question I know is on everyone’s mind. “Did you shift, Renfroe?”

  Ren swallows a mouthful. “No, sir. Quiet night. Ruby is helping me to understand all of this. It’s quite overwhelming.”

  I bring them up to speed on the new information Eunice provided, as well as my own deduction on Ren’s situation. “Yes, he’s a werewolf and it’s in his genes, but they were never triggered until he moved here.”

  “Tribal ground?” Matilda asks.

  “How did you know?”

  She sips from her unicorn mug, a sly grin on her face. “I had a were friend once. He had a similar reaction when he stepped on sacred ground out west.”

  “There’s a legend about indigenous wood walkers in this area,” I tell them. “They’re a supernatural line of shamans who only shifted under certain conditions, most especially when any of them, or the tribal holy ground, was threatened.”

  “Cool,” Zelle says, mopping up egg with her toast. “I had no idea.”

  Ren butters his slice, not seeming to mind the extra crispy edges. “They were a type of shifter-wolf-hybrid, normally able to decide when and where they changed, but unable to control it if they, or their land, were threatened on or around the full moon.”

  “I believe Ren is a descendant of theirs.” I’m excited to finally have a lead. Plus, I love learning something new about the woods. “He must have witnessed a threat the other night.”