The Wolf in His Arms (The Runes Trilogy) Page 9

  Jared nodded. “I still think about my parents, my sisters all the time. At first, the only thing that drove me was revenge.” Alec and Lucy remained silent, the room somber. “I brought the mood down. What should we talk about?”

  “I could complain about Mitch.”

  “You did that for the entire drive.”

  Alec said, “Mom’s been asking about you. I suggested they come by for dinner.”

  “Alec!”

  “Lucy, you can’t avoid them for the rest of your life. And you have blue contacts to wear.”

  “The contacts aren’t the point. And I can try to avoid them.”

  Jared smiled sympathetically at Lucy. “I know you’re trying to protect your parents, but I think you’re hurting them more than you ever might because of your affliction.”

  “They think you hate them because of Rene.”

  “I don’t hate them. I am angry.” Lucy topped off her cup of wine.

  “Is that why you keep the distance? Are you afraid the anger could trigger the werewolf?”

  Lucy held Jared’s eyes for a moment before she answered. “Yes, I think maybe.”

  “Yet this Mitch drives you nuts on an almost daily basis. He really infuriates you.”

  “It’s not the same,” Lucy snapped.

  Jared nodded agreement. “I’m not saying it’s the same. But, I think that if emotions triggered a change, you’d know it by now.”

  Lucy tossed her head back. “Okay. I don’t want to be psychoanalyzed anymore. Someone else’s turn.” She turned her eyes to Alec, and her face softened. “Why don’t you visit Adam’s grave?” Her question was sisterly, without malice.

  Alec topped off his own cup. He felt Jared’s hand rub his shoulder, reassuringly. He turned and the corners of his mouth rose in a weak, appreciative smile. “I find it hard. It’s hard to think that Adam’s there, and that it’s my fault.” Alec put his hand up before Lucy or Jared could object. “I know I never asked for this. That doesn’t change that Adam, Grandma, and Rene lost their lives—” His words broke off, and he turned his face from them both.

  “Alec, I know nothing I can say will ease the guilt, but I don’t blame you. Rene never blamed you. And if you could ask Adam and Grandma, they wouldn’t blame you either.”

  Alec nodded, though he didn’t turn toward them. He felt Jared’s hand rubbing his back in gentle, reassuring circles. Alec spoke again, his voice thick with tears, but clear. “We have to find them first. We have to stop others from feeling what Jared and I feel.”

  Jared clasped Alec’s shoulder. “That’s why we’re here. And that’s what we’re gonna do tomorrow.”

  * * * *

  Lying on the couch, Maxwell looked up from his phone as the nightly news blared the musical notes indicating a special report. “And now, a story with a happy ending,” the news anchor effervesced, her ultra-white digital smile beaming through the television to Maxwell. He turned up the volume, thinking, I could use a happy ending.

  “Jenna Nichols, who has been missing from White Birch State Forest, has been found, and is recovering in the hospital.” Maxwell hit the mute button as Haley entered the small living room and flopped on the couch next to him. He said, “They found that woman. The one that went missing from the state park.”

  “Alive?”

  “Yeah, alive.”

  “Who expected that?” Haley asked rhetorically. “I guess there are some happy endings.”

  Maxwell turned his attention back to the muted television, where a new segment was beginning. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  The Wolf at the Door

  Haley detested eating food from the diner, but the fridge was low, and Maxwell had refused to go anywhere after work. He had ordered a daily special, meatloaf with mashed potatoes and corn, and she had ordered a large cob salad and a cookie for dessert. The smell of his food made her grimace. The food was good, but she sometimes felt like she never got the smell of it off of her. She looked across the small, old Formica table at Maxwell as he rubbed his temples. “You okay?”

  “Just got a headache,” he said without opening his eyes. He had only nibbled at his dinner.

  “Look up at me.” Maxwell looked up. Haley had her naturally blonde hair down, cascading over her shoulders. Her large, inquisitive brown eyes were locked on him. “This is my don’t bullshit me face.”

  “I’m not,” he insisted. “Look, that guy the other day left me rattled.”

  “Why not tell the police what you saw?” Haley broke off a piece of her cookie and ate it.

  “And be seen as a crackpot psychic!” His voice rose in anger, but he stopped himself. “Oh, never mind,” he dismissed.

  “I hate when you do that.”

  “Odd. I do it all the time and you’re still here,” he deadpanned.

  Haley glowered at him, knowing he used sarcasm anytime he didn’t want to talk about something, which was often. “You can leave an anonymous tip. You don’t have to say it was a vision.”

  “The way you stressed the word fills me with hope about this conversation.”

  “Maxwell!”

  “Haley!” He mocked her tone. “What can I tell them? I don’t even know is name.”

  “You could describe him.” Haley leaned in, as if she were reaching the good part of a scary movie.

  “Yes, that’s right. You’re looking for a psycho with smoldering green eyes.”

  Haley drew back with an offended gasp. “Green eyes? Like yours? You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I also didn’t tell you I dropped your cookie on the floor. What’s your point?”

  Haley was about to lay into him, but a knock at the door made her pause. They both turned their eyes to the door but didn’t move. “Are you expecting someone?” She whispered.

  He shook his head, still looking at the door.

  “Knock, knock, little piggy, let me in,” a voice called through the door as the knocking thumped through the door.

  “Is the deadbolt locked?” Maxwell whispered.

  Haley shook her head. Maxwell stood. Haley grabbed his arm to stop him, but he shook free. He stepped away from the table, two hesitant, quiet steps.

  “Come on, Maxy, boy, we got a lot to talk about.”

  Maxwell froze. He turned to look at Haley, who cowered at the table. Maxwell raised his hand to his ear, making the phone gesture. Haley nodded and dug in her pocket for her phone. It slipped from her shaking hand, but she caught it before it hit the floor. She grimaced an apology.

  Maxwell crossed the front of the small apartment and paused at the door. He pressed against the wall, fighting the urge to look through the peephole. He knew, from movies, that whoever was outside could see your shadow block the light. He didn’t need to look; he recognized the voice.

  He reached for the deadbolt.

  He jerked his hand back as the door rattled with the force of pounding.

  “I know you’re in there, kiddo. Let me in, or I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and get really pissed the fuck off.” He slammed his hand against the door, making a framed poster rattle on the wall. “It won’t be good for Haley if I get pissed off.”

  Maxwell grabbed the deadbolt and turned it, cringing as it clicked.

  “Do you really think a little lock’s gonna keep me out?” The voice snaked through the door, taunting, almost comical in its thick sarcasm. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Maxwell backed down the hall, bumping into Haley.

  “How’s he know my name?” Haley whispered.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before today.”

  A strange, guttural groaning came from the other side of the door. They heard the man’s breath quicken, his breathing harsh and loud, and suddenly, the breath no longer sounded human. Haley clutched Maxwell’s arm. They stared at the door, silent.

  The top of the door splintered as a large clawed hand ripped through the wood. Haley and Maxwell screamed, transfixed, as the paw-like hand whacked through the door agai
n. The walls shook with the force of the hit, and the wood door cracked. “My bedroom, quick!” Maxwell demanded.

  He shoved Haley in front of him, and didn’t look back as he heard the front door splinter. He trampled in behind Haley, slamming his door, and slid the lock into place. His eyes cut to his dresser. He dashed to it and began to shove. Haley squeezed beside him, helping him scrape the dresser along the floor. They both jumped back as the door was struck with so much force that paint chips flew off. The top panel of the door splintered, and the dresser screeched as it shook.

  “The fire escape,” Maxwell urged as he grabbed Haley’s arm. He rushed to the window and thrust the sash up. Cold night air poured in. He looked down. They both had bare feet, no coats, no hats—no time to think about it. Haley tumbled out onto the fire escape, and Maxwell crawled through behind her.

  Haley slid down the metal steps, wincing at the cold metal on her bare feet. She looked back up at Maxwell who was peering through the window. “Maxwell?”

  Maxwell heard Haley’s voice, only faintly, as he watched the bedroom door crumble. He saw the beast for the first time, as it broke through the door and leaped over the dresser into full view. Hunched, it was as large as a grizzly bear, but the proportions were monstrous: an elongated snout, ears erect on its head, and eyes that were neither canine nor human.

  With a shriek, Maxwell slid down the steps, almost crashing into Haley. “Runrunrun,” he yelled. Haley cried out as the beast shattered the window and landed amid a shower of glass on the fire escape. Broken glass rained down on them, and the fire escape shook with the werewolf’s weight. She turned and half-stumbled down the steps, not really seeing where she was landing. She hit the ladder to the ground and screamed again as she slid down with it toward the ground.

  Maxwell landed on the ladder, feeling the beast almost on top of him. He grabbed the sides of the ladder and slid toward the ground. Haley was half-way down the alley, almost to the busy street. She cried out for help. He could see passersby, illuminated by the bright lights in the street, hesitate, look at her, unsure if they wanted to stop. Maxwell felt his legs pumping as he ran toward the street; his chest heaved with the effort.

  He no longer heard the beast behind him and ventured a look over his shoulder.

  The alley was empty.

  Maxwell stumbled to Haley. A woman had stopped and was on her cell phone, calling the police. Maxwell put his arms around Haley, and they sobbed on each other’s shoulders as a small crowd gathered around them.

  A Mother Scorned

  Jared stared down the state route, rather blankly, his mind filled with apprehension, as he drove the last 30 minutes toward Mary Snug. His mind reeled with all the ways of approaching Mary and her son—whose name they didn’t even know—about the danger. He pictured the three of them being carted off by the police after warning Mary that werewolves were after her son.

  The gray morning light looked cold and dreary, and the overcast hurt his eyes. It was almost 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning. They packed, ate breakfast, and hit the road with nothing that really resembled a plan. They didn’t even know if Mary would be home once they reached her house. At least, Jared thought, we have her address.

  Alec and Lucy were quiet, and Jared wondered if they shared his fears. “So, is anyone else feeling nervous?”

  “You bet.”

  From the backseat, Lucy said, “We should come up with some explanation. A story.”

  “We don’t even know his name. We can’t just call him Baby Boy Snug.”

  “If there’s a town library, maybe we can look up school yearbooks or something. How many Snugs could there be?” Alec asked.

  “I have a thought. Maybe we should break into groups. So, say Jared strikes out—”

  Jared harrumphed in the front seat.

  “Then I can make an attempt. And then Alec?”

  “You don’t think she’ll find it odd that three strangers inquire about her son in one day?”

  “You’re just bitter because I said you’d strike out, but I suppose you have a point.”

  “What about my library idea?” Alec performed a quick search on his phone. “The library’s on Main Street.”

  “I wish we’d come up with a plan before we just jumped in the car and took off,” Jared complained.

  Lucy sighed loudly in the backseat but didn’t reply. She looked out the window at the snow dusted landscape. She knew Jared was right. She had demanded that they run out half-cocked, not even considering a plan until they arrived at their destination. The predicament only added more weight onto her clouded mind. The grief, the anger, the frustration, and fear had taken such a toll. She often felt she didn’t even recognize herself anymore. “You’re right,” she finally said. “We’ll be more cautious the next time we chase down a pack member. But we’re here now.”

  Jared could hear the weight in her voice. “I like your idea about approaching her separately.”

  “Look, I get it. You two are the smart ones. But what about the library?” Alec insisted.

  Jared turned his head to look at Alec, his face lit by a bemused, loving smile. “The library’s a good idea.”

  “I know it is,” Alec replied with a cocky grin.

  Jared parked the car on Main Street. As he climbed from the car, he stopped to survey the town. The wind whistled down the street as it rolled off the barren cornfields. The town evoked Norman Rockwell Americana, but with some of the sheen rubbed off. The entire downtown was no more than three or four blocks of one- and two-story buildings. Parking lots rested here and there where buildings once stood. The remaining buildings endured as stolid brick or clapboard monuments to American practicality. Jared chased after Lucy and Alec who were already entering the library.

  Inside the library, Alec made a beeline for the information desk. “Do you keep copies of the local yearbook?”

  The woman behind the counter nodded enthusiastically and stood to show them the way. “Are you former students?”

  “Friends of a student. We’re planning a surprise and wanted old photos.”

  “Who?” She asked cheerfully.

  “Ah, now that is a carefully guarded secret,” Alec said playfully.

  The librarian chuckled with amusement and left them to the shelves with old yearbooks. After she left, Alec said, “So he’s two years younger than me?” He dug through the yearbooks, took one, and handed one to Lucy and one to Jared. They sat at a nearby table and began flipping through them. “Nothing,” Alec said after a few minutes.

  “I got nothing,” Jared said.

  “Nope,” Lucy said.

  Alec returned to the shelf and brought back what would be Baby Boy Snug’s freshman yearbook. He flipped through it and found a photo. “Maxwell,” he said.

  “You found him,” Lucy said, leaning over Alec’s shoulder with Jared. They looked down into the clearly unhappy face of a young man. His smile was slight, as if even forcing a timid smile strained him. His eyes—bright green—were heavy. “He looks depressed.”

  “And he’s only in his freshman yearbook.”

  “Maybe he went to a parochial school after this,” Jared suggested.

  “Well, we have his name at least. Good job, Alec,” Lucy said, hugging her brother from behind. Alec waved thank you to the librarian as they left. In the car, they sat to devise a plan and decide who would approach Mary Snug—and Maxwell—first. “I look young enough to have been a classmate,” Alec said. “I think I should approach first. I’ll just say I moved away, and I wanted to look him up.”

  “And when he has no idea who you are?”

  Jared, always the voice of reason. “I’ll tell him my name. I’ll tell him to look me up on the Internet. To see what happened, about the fire. Tell him it’s going to happen to him.”

  “We better work on our plans, Jared,” Lucy said.

  Alec dropped Lucy and Jared off at a pizza parlor on Main Street and drove toward Mary Snug’s house. Mary Snug lived in a small ranch-style
house that looked to have been built in the 1950s. The gray, aluminum-sided house was well maintained if not elaborate. The front yard was not very deep, and farm fields stretched behind it and across the street. One large oak tree stood leafless and solemn in the front lawn. Some juniper bushes, in need of trimming, spread under a large picture window. A stone chimney was the only decorative aspect of the unornamented house.

  As Alec pulled into the driveway, his stomach flip-flopped. For the first time, he had a sense of what Jared must have gone through when approaching him, when trying to decide how to explain the madness that they were unwitting participants in. He fought the urge to back out when he saw the curtain in the picture window flutter, and he knew someone had looked out. He squeezed the steering wheel to release his jitters and then opened the car door.

  He knocked on the door. His nervousness soared, and suddenly, Alec realized that something was about to go horribly wrong. He should have listened to his body—to his instincts. He hadn’t gotten a headache or the vibration, but his body was definitely warning him.

  Mary Snug opened the door. “Can I help you?” Her question was cautious but stern, like someone who had been hurt one too many times.

  “Ms. Snug?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name’s Alec. I’m a friend of your son’s,” Alec stammered, then for authenticity, added, “Maxwell.”

  Her face morphed from apprehensive to utter contempt. The door shook with her anger, as if she were preparing to slam it. “Do you think this is funny?”

  “Ma’am?” Alec said, feeling the anger radiating off her. He felt his face flush.

  “If my son had had a friend in this town, I’d’ve known it. Not one of you was ever kind to him, and that’s why I haven’t seen him in three years. Do you have any idea what that’s like.” The door did not slam. Instead, she opened it farther as her rage got the better of her. “It wasn’t enough that you ran him off. Are you back for a visit from college, and you thought it might be fun to stop by the freak’s house? What’d you think, I keep him locked up in this house like some invalid?” Spit sprayed from her mouth as her heated words carried across the yard and were swept away by the cold wind. Alec finally saw the tears in her eyes, the loss, the grief. “Get out of here,” she said, “before I call the cops.” As Alec stepped away, she added, “And don’t you ever come back, or I’ll fill your worthless ass full of buckshot.”