Scarlet Huntress (Tales of Grimm Hollow Book 1)

by LeAnn Mason

  The items in question were in a mud-riddled pool reminiscent of blood on the floor of the pristine space. Shifting my eyes away from the offending articles, I scanned the space, my vision catching on a neat pile of clothing lying innocuously atop the counter. I stepped closer, wincing as my feet left the plush mat and pressed to the cold, stone floor. Another step and I was close enough to inspect the offerings. I found undergarments, sleep pants, and a shirt, all in a cream color and made of soft cotton that I couldn’t wait to feel against my skin.

  I couldn’t remember ever wearing something with tags on it while with the coven. Seth didn’t put money into my well-being. He made money on me. I was there to do the work, and once he’d learned of my gifts, he’d brought me along when he wanted to vet someone. The “someones” in question were just as nefarious as Seth, most of the time, but I hadn’t seen any other wolves, let alone anything else. The coven cloistered me as much as they could, but seeing as the community of Winchester was small, and Seth’s cover of a prosperous businessman meant he was in view, it would have been noticed if I disappeared.

  That one fact was my saving grace. I got to keep Mae, and no one knew the truth of Seth and his coven of dark witches. They’d only come to the town a few weeks before they’d killed my grandmother and “adopted” me. I never knew why they stayed or how the town had allowed strangers to take me in. Might have had something to do with the fact that my family already had a reputation as being weird. My grandmother played up her Native heritage and commented about spirits often enough to make people a bit leery. Mae was the exception. She’d always accepted me.

  As my head hit the ultra-plush pillow adorning the equally plush bed, I had only a moment to reminisce before sheer exhaustion tugged me into a deep sleep.

  I skipped through the forest, a picnic basket looped around my arm. A scarlet blanket pushed from beneath the woven lid, tucking the deliciousness of the meal safely within the confines of the wicker. I licked my lips as the yeasty aroma of fresh-baked rolls still managed to reach my nose.

  “Stay to the path, Allya.”

  “I will, Grams!” I called back, not slowing. A bright blue flower caught my eye off to the left, and I skipped off to pick it. “Look, Grams! I picked it for you!” I sang, running back to present the gift to my grandmother, who smiled indulgently.

  “Thank you so much, Bug. It is beautiful,” she cooed.

  I beamed, my missing teeth on full display. I wanted to see if I could find any more. Grams deserved a whole bunch of pretty flowers. A spot of bright yellow drew my attention, then a big red flower, another pretty blue one after that…

  My hands were becoming full, the stems bunching together within my grasp, now sticky with excreted sap. Caught by the beauty, I finally took a moment to smell the bouquet. Sweet and pungent, the vibrant aromas swirled and wafted toward my nose as I took a deep inhale, shuddering with pleasure at the perfume. I just knew that Grams would love the pretty flowers.

  Where was Grams? I’d been so distracted with my search that I’d strayed further than I’d realized. It was time to get back, so we could have our picnic. The heavy basket still swung from my arm, but its weight seemed much heavier than before. Something tugged at my senses, bringing my eyes to the trees ahead of me.

  A wolf stepped from between weathered trunks, head low and moving cautiously toward me. Large, luminous, amber eyes watched my every move, holding me captive with their stare. Almost awkwardly large brown-tipped ears flicked back and forth with each sound. He wasn’t intimidating, almost… curious in his approach. It wasn’t until he opened his mouth to pant, his long pink tongue moving back and forth with his breath, that I noticed just how big those teeth were.

  Suddenly, those teeth were all I could see, sharp and dripping with saliva at the thought of eating me! I wheeled backward, tripping over a half-buried log, as a hoarse, age-rattled scream rent the air.

  Grams.

  No! “Grams!” I scrambled across the debris-riddled dirt until I finally got my feet underneath me, the basket discarded and forgotten by the root that felled me, the violent red blanket spilling from the confines like an omen. I searched the trees for any owls, bringers of death, while I tripped toward where I now heard feral growls along with pained grunts.

  Another anguished scream of pain met my throbbing ears before it cut off abruptly. I pushed harder. It was taking too long to reach her.

  My eyes flashed open on a scream, my body shooting upright in remembered horror. Pulse racing and heart pounding, I opened and closed my eyes repeatedly in an attempt to clear the nightmare and focus on the present. I wasn’t in the woods. I wasn’t that seven-year-old girl who’d stumbled across that horrifying scene ten years ago. Rehashing is not the way to calm yourself, Ally.

  The room was unfamiliar and dark except where moonlight slid through the thinly covered window. My attention snapped back to the dark shape that sat in shadowed relief against the filtered light. It did not belong there. The luminescent green orbs trained on me definitely did not belong. A waft of forest and animal lent to my belief that the animal was in fact here, in my room, not a figment pulled from my nightmare.

  Why was she here? How? Even without light, I knew it was the she-wolf from the forest. The one that, from what I’d heard earlier, was dead. “What do you want from me?” I asked, my tone more than a little tinged with apprehension. Maybe I was going crazy. I mean, I knew that Shamans saw some freaky things. Was that what she was? Some ghostly version of herself? Haunting me for whatever reason, possibly as simple as the fact that I could see her.

  I had flashbacks to just about every movie I’d ever seen that involved ghosts… the things certainly seemed to love to make their chosen people’s lives pretty rough. I’d never seen the spirit of an animal before. Especially one that appeared corporeal. “What are you?”

  A swift knock reverberated around the walls of my borrowed room, the sudden noise jolting my attention from the wolf and toward the heavy wooden door. Because I knew enough not to take my eyes off of a predator for even a moment, I scooted off the bed and backed to the door.

  “Yes?” I called out to whoever was there.

  “Miss? I thought I heard a scream. Are you all right?” The soft feminine voice didn’t belong to Gloria. I already knew that everything she did was deliberate, calculated. That woman didn’t do soft. I assumed, instead, it was the servant girl who had shown me to the room.

  “Uh, I’m not sure, actually. There seems to be a wolf in here with me… Is that at all possible?” I squeaked, my eyes still glued to the hulking shape sitting in shadow.

  “A wolf, Miss?” the girl exclaimed, clearly as in shock as I’d been upon seeing the creature. “We’re on the second floor. The house is alarmed and completely closed up for the night. I—I don’t see how a wolf could be in your room,” she rambled in alarm. An extended pause followed her statements, long enough to make me wonder if she’d thought I was crazy and left me to myself. “Should I wake the mistress?” she questioned just as I moved my hand to open the door.

  Between blinks, the silhouette vanished. No fancy wisps of smoke or violent attacks before her disappearance. She was just… gone. I blinked nearly fifty times in the span of time usually reserved for a single flutter. Nothing changed. The wolf still wasn’t there—if she ever had been. “Holy crap, I’m losing my mind.”

  “What was that, Miss? Did you want me to wake Ms. Gloria?”

  The girl’s muffled voice reminded me that I wasn’t truly alone. Someone was privy to my meltdown. I made one heck of a first impression. Another reason to get out of this town as quickly as I could. I just needed to get some provisions and maybe a map or some directions to help me on my way. “No, thank you. I think—I think it was just a bad dream. Good night.” I hoped she would believe me. It was much more believable than the idea that there had been an actual wolf in my room that had then up and vanished. Especially a dead wolf.

  What was happening to me?

  C
HAPTER 8

  T his time, the knock was not timid and did succeed in rousing me from sleep. The echo seemed to bounce off the walls long after the knocking ceased. I groaned and unwound myself from where I lay wrapped around a plush pillow nearly as long as my body. I pushed away from the substitute for human contact just as Gloria’s authoritative voice called out to me and knocked again. The sound gave me a headache.

  “I’m up,” I groaned loud enough that I hoped she heard. I didn’t want to go to the door if I didn’t have to.

  “If you could please join us downstairs when you are ready, we wish to continue our discussion from last night.”

  “Discussion?”

  “Yes. About Seth…” She let the name linger between us. Damn it. She knew that one frickin’ name would get me moving.

  Screaming silently into my former snuggle-buddy, I took a moment to beat it into submission before calling out a semi-calm, “I’ll be down in just a moment.” She didn’t respond, but I heard the clicking of heels along the corridor. Seemed that was good enough for her, no acknowledgement needed. There was an inherent assurance that people would do what she wanted.

  So far, she’d been right.

  I didn’t have any new clothes, at least not that I’d seen. So, I settled for making myself as presentable as I could in the sleep clothes but took the time to add my bra. I had no idea who would be downstairs, and I at least needed that little bit of a barrier. There was no way I was getting back into that damn dress. The cloak, however…

  There was a whisper of sound with every step I descended, the thick fabric of the cloak long enough to brush the wooden stairs, especially now that I was barefoot. When I reached the bottom, I took a moment to assess which direction Gloria would most likely be. She’d position herself in a place of power. Her office, where Hunt—Jason had led me last night.

  My eyes pulled toward where I felt someone’s attention on me. On the other side of the bannister, the housekeeper girl watched me curiously. Her eyes bounced back and forth between my clean, ivory sleep clothes and dirty, scarlet cape draped across my shoulders. I’d worn the cloak like a shield. A piece of armor. Something that was mine, kind of.

  “Did you not like the clothes?”

  “Huh? What clothes?” I looked down at the pants and shirt. “I saw these last night. Thank you, by the way. I assume you left them for me?” She hid almost, her face peeking at me through the wrought-iron railings. I finally took a moment to really study her. The night before, I’d been far too tired and curious about my surroundings.

  She was beautiful. Blond hair pulled up in a tidy bun with a French braid wrapping her crown from left to right. With more scrutiny, I noticed something off about the color. It looked almost as if it was slightly… green, like she’d seen way too much chlorine. Big, kind green eyes dominated an oval face with sharp cheekbones and pouty lips. “There is a closet… with clothes…” When my face’s blankness didn’t change, the girl, whose name I thought was Sasha, seemed to shrink further behind the staircase.

  I wondered at the strange response until the staccato tapping of high heels approached in determined strides. “Allya, so good to see you this morning. What… Were the clothes not satisfactory?” She scrutinized me, from my bare feet to the top of my head, with a cocked brow and pursed lips. Her shrewd eyes narrowed as they lit upon my filthy cloak, a nearly imperceptible curl rising the corner of her mouth. “Sasha, see that our guest's clothes are cleaned and mended and that she finds suitable attire for day walking, hmm?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” the girl answered meekly before scurrying away from her mistress's disapproving stare.

  “This is not how I planned to introduce you this morning,” Gloria sniped loftily as her disapproval once again landed on me. I was already over it.

  “These were the only clothes obviously available to me. I didn't want to go snooping around the room this morning, and even if I had, I wouldn't have felt comfortable just pulling something from the closet.” I shrugged. That seemed mighty reasonable to me.

  “Keep that cloak about yourself. Hopefully, it will keep the distraction to a minimum. Follow me, please.”

  She didn't wait for me to agree, her heels immediately beginning their vociferous departure back toward the room I'd met her in last night. As I crossed into the stately room, I realized that there were more attendees to this meeting than I'd expected, and I cursed my lack of suitable armor. My thin pants and shirt were not up to the task. The cloak would have to be.

  I pinched the heavy fabric tighter in my grip and crossed my arms, effectively wrapping myself within its embrace. Then, I looked around the room. Besides Gloria, there was a well-groomed gentleman with dark hair and a circle-beard who inclined his head when introduced as Jasper. He stood before the giant slab of wood that Gloria used as a desk.

  A feeling of being watched from behind drew my eye to the other inhabitant. A bone-deep familiarity rang through me as I took the older woman in. “Grams?” I whispered in hushed disbelief. No. It couldn't be. Grams had died. A violent and agonizing death. A death that I had witnessed.

  “No, dear. My name is Elsie. Evalyn was my twin.”

  “Your twin?” I muttered, my mind trying to catch up. “But… I don't have any family.” That’s what I knew. That’s one of the things that Seth threatened me with to keep me in line.

  “You have nowhere to go. No one who loves you,” he’d reminded me often. My stomach twisted. I did have family. Still, no one had come for me. No one was there for my Grams when she died.

  “You do, my dear, you do.” Age-hooded, dark eyes bored into me, begging for me to believe her. To accept her.

  I couldn’t do it. Not yet. Anger roiled under the surface, pushing for escape. “Where were you, then? Why was my grandmother all alone when the wolves came for her? Where were you to claim me after?” My skin felt too tight, stretched to the max and ready to split with the force of the tempest brewing within. I stalked closer to this “family,” ready to get my answers, when movement near the doorway caught my attention.

  My wolf.

  The sight stopped me cold, the anger draining, my skin no longer aching. “What are you doing here?” I threw it into reverse, backpedaling toward Gloria and Jasper where they stood by the oversized desk.

  “What do you see, girl?” Jasper rasped from beside me. He watched me with curious, narrowed eyes, never even looking to the doorway.

  “This is what I wanted you both to see. Jason says she smells of wolf… but not Shifter,” Gloria said magnanimously. I couldn’t tell if she was gloating, exactly. There was a definite undertone, though.

  “Shifter? I’m not a Shifter. Are there such things? I mean, other than scary-ass witches who turn into wolves?” All eyes were glued to me, even the wolf’s. She was still very much there, at least to me. “Never mind that. Does anyone else see the wolf in the doorway?” When no one looked away, I had my answer.

  I was officially nuts.

  “Allya. What does the wolf look like?” Elsie asked conversationally. Her mild question had me doing a double-take in her direction.

  After an encouraging nod, I risked answering. “Black, with tan tips across her shoulders. I mean, I think it’s a female. I haven’t checked. Especially because I’m almost positive she’s a figment of my imagination.” I felt crazy just saying it out loud. I saw a wolf, everywhere, and no one else did. I shifted my weight nervously. Did this town have a looney bin I was about to be thrown into?

  “Allya, I—we—think we have a theory about that,” Gloria stated, making sure to include her comrades in her statement, even if she didn’t mean it. Today, like last night, Gloria was dressed to impress and fully made-up. I got the feeling that this “meeting” was an excuse to show her superiority, her orange aura flaring as she commanded the room. “I think the wolf is the spirit of the female we found dead across our borders yesterday.” She didn’t say that to me so much as Jasper and Elsie, who nodded thoughtfully after a moment of silent
reflection.

  “Wh—Why would you think I see the spirit of a dead wolf?” I spluttered nervously. I, too, had come to the same conclusion… but why would they?

  “Child, I, too, am a Shaman. I see dead people.” Elsie chuckled lightly but cleared her throat at my shell-shocked face. “It runs deep in our family, Allya. I’d be happy to teach you about it.”

  “Wow, just going for it then, huh? Why didn’t I know about you? Why did you never visit?” A tear rolled down my cheek, and I swiped at it angrily. I hated that crying was an expression of my lividity. “Where were you when we needed you?” My skin began to prickle again. I’d always had a tightness in my center, a feeling that I couldn’t explore... but this felt different.

  “You’ll want to watch your emotions, at least until you get the hang of things,” Jasper acknowledged gruffly from my right. His deep voice was smooth, like jazz. A lure to the unsuspecting females of the species.

  “The hang of what? I know my sight. I’ve never seen a whole animal before,” I fired back, upset that I let them goad me. I had no intention of spewing about my Shaman sight. This whole meeting threw me. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. With my senses tingling, I looked to find the wolf further into the room, eyeing each inhabitant. She watched intently, waiting to see if anyone presented a threat. I have no idea how I know that...

  “That wolf is dead, yes, but that is not why you are seeing her. At least, I do not think so,” Gloria put in, striding out from behind the cover of her desk. When she seemed to pause for dramatic effect, I had to keep from rolling my eyes as well as my hand to get her back on point. Instead, I rode out her silence. With a mild huff of disappointment, which didn't detract from her beautiful features, she went on. “I—we—,” she corrected herself again quickly, “We knew Seth Morgan. He was a Grimm Hollow Warlock."