Silverweed

by Dorlana Vann

  “I did not,” Aiden said in a low yet firm voice from behind her.

  “I think it would be best if you’re not here when the police get here,” Scarlet said. “I mean, you did shoot and kill…” She put her hand out, gesturing toward the werewolf, and cleared her throat. “… your granny.”

  “Stop it,” Diesel said. “I know you don’t believe me.”

  “I do, and Aiden does, and we want what’s best for you and for her.” She took a step toward him. “We still have enough time to catch the flight if we leave now.”

  “No one is leaving,” Diesel said calmly, his face clear of tears. He bent down beside the werewolf. To Aiden he said, “Grab her feet.”

  Without hesitation Aiden stepped forward, and together they managed to pick the creature up and place it on the bed.

  Aiden wiped his hands on his pants. “Now what?”

  “We wait,” Diesel said.

  “No! Diesel!” Scarlet squeezed her eyes together, trying to keep the weak tears away. “This is stupid. There’s no reason to wait. It’s dead. We’re going to miss our flight! Please, don’t do this to me. I swear I’ll leave without you.” She quickly turned away to wipe the tear that had defiantly escaped. She felt Diesel’s warmth behind her.

  He petted her hair. “I’m sorry.”

  Scarlet winced away from his touch.

  Diesel said, “One hour, and if she doesn’t change back, if it doesn’t happen like my mom said, we’ll talk about calling the cops. But I can’t go. Not yet. I have to see for myself. If we conclude that this thing killed Gran, then we’ll all get out of here. I promise.”

  Their flight left in less than two hours. If they waited the hour, they would miss the flight. Her one chance to finally get the hell out of Kingwood, gone. Scarlet chest tightened, and her breaths felt like fist in her chest. But she knew now was not the time to lose control. She had push her rage aside, so she could think clearly.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose and out through her mouth. Leaving at that moment would be useless, she thought. Diesel would be a brooding mess and forever blame her for not staying, for not believing, and she’d have no proof that he was wrong.

  If they stayed for the hour, he would have to face reality. Maybe that’s what he needed to finally let go. Then they could leave, have a new life, without any regrets. Whenever, the hell that would be. No telling how long the police would keep them tied up with questions.

  She spun around. “Fine,” she said. “One hour and then we call the cops. But you owe me big time.

  Chapter 8

  Little Red Drifted from The Path

  Aiden sat on the floor with his back against the wall and struggled to analyze the bizarre events. He’d been told the creature in the bed wearing his granny’s nightgown was actually his grandmother, who happened to be a werewolf.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of his cousin. Diesel was intense but hadn’t seemed insane, until then. Aiden had Scarlet’s number, however, even before she tried to manipulate him. She was intelligent, conniving, and probably used her beauty to get what she wanted all the time. He had met girls who flipped their hair and had an agenda before, but no one as convincing as Scarlet. He’d have to keep his guard up around her.

  He returned his awareness to the werewolf in the bed. Something about the wolf seemed different. He stood up, slowly, keeping his back close to the wall.

  Aiden heard Scarlet and Diesel stir but stayed focused on the werewolf.

  The hair on the beast seemed be getting thinner. The nose was definitely getting shorter, the teeth less protruding, and the ears smaller. The long hands and claws reduced in size, leaving wrinkled, tiny, nail-less fingers.

  They all dared a couple of steps closer, meeting near the bed.

  The creatures long tongue leaped from its open mouth and then sank back. When the werewolf began to shake wildly and shrink in length and mass, everyone took a step back.

  Even though fear told Aiden to run, his feet stayed planted. His thoughts dissolved; he could only see the werewolf, which was obviously transforming into a human. The reasons as to why this could not be possible had left him.

  When the movement stopped, all the final changes happened at once. The fur vanished. Granny almost looked herself again, except for being completely bald. Her silver hair began to grow, seemingly one by one, out of her skull, followed by her eyebrows. Small, clean nails appeared at the tips of the fingers.

  The room spun. Aiden didn’t want to see the expression on Diesel or Scarlet’s face; it would only prove that what he thought had happened, really happened.

  He didn’t remember walking out of the room, going into the hallway, down the stairway to the foyer, and into the guest room, but there he was, his chest heaving in and out with panicked and labored breaths. He had no idea how long he had stood there staring at nothing before eventually coming to his senses. The dizziness, lightheadedness, and pain from the scratches coming into focus.

  Somehow, the fact that it was true, his grandmother was a werewolf, was more frightening than a wild animal attacking him. He wasn’t sure if he had believed Diesel when he’d said it earlier. But now. Now there was no denying the truth. The werewolf wore the same nightgown as Granny because the wolf was Granny.

  He wanted to talk to his mom. He needed to hear a sane voice. She wasn’t going to believe him of course. But he had to tell her Granny was dead. “Crap, crap, crap!” It was his fault because of the muffins. He had one job: take care of his grandmother for a couple of days.

  He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Nooo … crap!” He had forgotten to charge it. He rummaged through his bag until he found his charger. He plugged it in the wall outlet with increasingly shaky hands and waited a few minutes. Crap! No service. Now what?

  He set his phone down on the nightstand and ran to the living room, headed to the house phone he’d spied earlier that day. He spotted the white cordless phone on a small corner table by the French doors. He walked the length of the room, his head buzzing, and picked up the phone from the base. Nothing.

  “It doesn’t work,” he heard Diesel say. “We haven’t had a land-line in years.”

  Aiden briefly pondered why they still had an old phone set up like it still worked but then turned his attention to Diesel who stood at the hearth, lighting a match and putting it inside the fireplace. Flames ignited—hoosh—like magic.

  Aiden asked, “Does your cell phone work?”

  “Ha. We’re lucky we still have electricity.”

  “How long do you think before they’re back up?”

  “No telling. The service out here is weak and unreliable on a good day.” Diesel blew into his hands and then held them in front of the fire.

  Aiden noticed how chilly the house was and figured it must have been his adrenalin keeping him warm before. This made him think about how, a few minutes ago, he had thought he was going to die. If Diesel hadn’t shown up … Scarlet had been right about that, too. No matter what he thought about his cousin, he had saved his life.

  “Thanks, man,” Aiden said to Diesel’s back.

  After a moment, Diesel replied, “For what? Killing Gran?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, I think she would have killed me. So thanks for saving my life.”

  Diesel kept his attention on the fire.

  Aiden turned away, trying to think of what to do next when he saw the snow outside through the French door. He cupped his hands on the cold glass to peer out into the yard. For a second, he allowed himself to become lost in the fiercely falling whiteness, but the blackness of the evening clouded any would-be joy.

  He wearily pulled himself away from the window and sat down in the recliner, still staring out into the night. “What are we going to do? I mean, she’s up there, and we can’t call for help. Maybe we should go find help or take her somewhere.”

  Diesel turned toward Aiden. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said evenly. “I didn’t come
back for you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Diesel looked him up and down and then asked, “Do you need any bandages?”

  Aiden concentrated on the stinging of the scrapes on his face and neck and arms. A flush of fear suddenly raced from the pit of his stomach to his face. If werewolves truly existed, then the legends about them could also be true. He felt about his body nervously for a second, forcing himself to recount the attack again. “No,” he said, greatly relieved, “she didn’t bite me. That’s how it happens, right? I mean, that’s how it is in movies and books. They have to bite you in order for you to turn into one. Right?”

  Diesel eyes mere slits and his face sullen. He licked his lips. “I don’t know.”

  The front door slammed, and Aiden heard loud footsteps in the foyer, followed by Scarlet shouting out curse words.

  “I can’t believe this,” she screamed as she entered the living room. “I’m stuck in this crazy-ass place!” Snow covered her hair and red scarf. “You were such an idiot to come back here!” She stomped over to Diesel and slapped him across the face.

  Aiden winced. “Whoa.”

  Diesel caught the next slap midair. They stood, eyes locked, for a moment.

  “I can’t get out of the driveway,” she sneered and jerked her arm away.

  “What?” Aiden thought he had whispered until Scarlet whipped around, an ugly snarl on her face, and said, “You heard me.”

  She started unwrapping the scarf with a vengeance, snow flying everywhere. “My car can’t make it up the freaking hill! Why would anyone build a house down a hill? Freaking bullshit!”

  It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Aiden inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to regain enough control to talk. “There has to be some way. What are we going to do?”

  “Start pushing,” Scarlet said.

  Aiden looked at Diesel for him to confirm the plan. It sounded as good as any.

  Diesel slightly shook his head. “No one is going back out there tonight.”

  Scarlet plopped on the couch and started tugging at her boots, and Diesel turned back toward the fireplace.

  “Wait a minute.” Aiden stood up. “We really need to do something about her, about Granny. Scarlet, does your phone work?”

  “I forgot it at home.”

  “A neighbor?”

  “Not for miles.”

  “Shouldn’t we at least try to push one of the cars up the hill?” Aiden walked toward Diesel, stopping at a safe distance.

  Diesel turned his head enough for Aiden to see his profile. “Even if we did manage to get a car to the top, it would be stupid to go out in a blizzard at night. I’m not going to be responsible for any more deaths. And cousin, even if we had a phone, no one is going to drive all the way out here in this storm. Besides, there’s nothing anyone can do for her now, except to make sure she has a safe passage. I covered her and cracked the window. She’ll be fine until morning.”

  “So that’s it?” Aiden glanced at Scarlet.

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  Aiden could hear the howl of the wind. He figured it couldn’t be any worse than a Texas thunderstorm. By the morning, despite the ground being wet, the sun would shine, and the birds would sing.

  Until morning. Waiting for daylight did seem to be a reasonable decision. He looked upstairs, over the banister, at Granny’s bedroom door. He doubted he would be getting any sleep, but he could charge his phone in case the signal got better.

  However, exactly like in a Texas thunderstorm, the lights flickered and then went out.

  Chapter 9

  The Wolf Knocked at The Door

  They had fallen asleep in the living room next to the fire, listening to a battery-operated AM radio. When Scarlet woke up, static had replaced the DJ’s voice, the candles were cold, and the fire was a mere smoldering pile of ash. The smell of breakfast food filled the room, and, except for the quilt, the chair Aiden had slept in was empty. She carefully removed the comforter and Diesel’s arm from her waist before crawling off the couch.

  She walked to the French doors and moaned. It was still snowing. There were four-foot high drifts, broken twigs lacing the ground, and snow covering the evergreens and the bare branches of the oaks. She couldn’t see past the garden; the wintry atmosphere wept and blew an ashy haze. Yawning, she picked up her suitcase, which Diesel had brought in last night, and went to the restroom down the hall next to the foyer.

  Scarlet turned on the wall heater, put her hair up into a high ponytail, and sank into the hot water she had drawn in the claw-footed bathtub. She closed her eyes and pretended to be in Mexico. As soon as she finished her bath, she would put on her bikini and meet Diesel down at the beach. While she drank out of a coconut, she’d soak in the sun and watch Diesel make sandcastles. Afterwards, they would splash, play and make out in the cool, blue waves.

  She reluctantly opened her eyes. “Nope, still in the creepy Anderson’s House.” People didn’t build many new houses in Kingwood; they restored old ones and kept them up. But even Scarlet’s house, which was older, didn’t look like Diesel’s house—like it hadn’t been lived in for two hundred years.

  When she’d first started dating Diesel, the kids at school had asked: “You’ve been there? What’s it like inside ‘The Creepy Anderson’s House?’” Apparently, out of the thousands of girls Diesel had dated, she had been the only one he’d ever brought home. He didn’t have any close male friends either, so no one had any tales to tell.

  Well, everyone had been right. Something weird and strange was certainly going on inside Diesel’s house. Something unbelievable. Something she tried not to let her mind drift to. Instead, she did her best to stay focused on what they would do once they got the hell out of there.

  At least things were brighter, clearer this morning and she chose to concentrate on the positive. The reign of the Anderson women was over. They only needed to stay in Kingwood long enough to sell the house.

  The only thing in her way was the small matter of the dead old lady upstairs. “Think,” she told herself, shivering and putting on her clothes. She smiled as the obvious solution popped inside her head. She’d been off her game last night, but today was a new day.

  After she dressed in as many layers as she could but still move her arms, she tiptoed passed the sleeping Diesel to the kitchen. Aiden sat at the breakfast table eating. “There’s more,” he said and nodded toward the stove. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook. The bacon is burnt, and the eggs are too runny.”

  “Exactly how I like it,” she said.

  “When the electricity goes out in my house, we can’t cook or anything because it’s all electric.”

  “Even the water heater? That would suck. Okay, I don’t know how you can cook in here like this.” She walked the kitchen, shutting all the cabinets and then the drawers. “I would’ve bonked my head like three thousand times.”

  “Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “I have no idea why they are open …” she put her hand up to stop him in case he wanted to enlighten her, “and I don’t want to know.” She made herself a plate of eggs and bacon. “I should probably wake Diesel about the fire. The storm is not finished, and it’s only going to get colder in here.”

  “I’m not used to storms being so quiet. Do you think we’re going to be able to get out of here soon?”

  “It doesn’t look good,” she said, sitting down. “No telling how long we’re going to be stuck here.”

  “Great.”

  “I know. I really need to get Diesel away from here. Even before all this weird werewolf/Granny shit, his mom’s death did something to him. I’m not talking about the normal grieving stuff either. He blames himself, you know.”

  “Really? Why? Didn’t she have a heart attack?”

  “Yes, she did. But he thinks she died because he gave her the evil eye.”

  “I’ve heard that expression before, but I don’t really know about it.”

  �
��He was pissed-off and glared at her disrespectfully, his words, which is apparently the evil eye. And get this, people with deep-set, uneven, and different colored eyes, like Diesel’s, are said to be especially powerful.”

  “But that’s crazy. You can’t kill someone by looking at them. Can you?”

  “Thank you! I know, but he believes you can. He and his mom had an argument the day before she died. During the fight, she started screaming at him and accusing him of giving her the evil eye.” Scarlet crunched on a piece of crispy bacon and watched as Aiden seemed to process what she’d told him.

  Aiden pushed his plate away and grimaced. “This place is so weird.”

  “So of course, he believed that was exactly what killed her. But finally, I had all that nonsense out of his system. We were going to go away together and then this happens.”

  “What did happen? I was there, but I don’t believe it. I mean, what’re we going to tell the police? Maybe the werewolf gene or mutation is in her system or something. If we all tell them the same story about what happened and give them the silverweed—”

  “We tell them that, and they’re going to think we’ve been smoking some kind of weed, all right. Do you really think they have a werewolf tester? No. Normal people don’t believe in werewolves. We’ve got to come up with a believable story.” She wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “I have an idea.”

  He nodded his head, waiting for her to reveal her plan.

  “Maybe we could say that it was self-defense, which it was. That in her weak state of mind, she thought you were an intruder, and so she tried to kill you, and you had no other choice but to use self-defense.”

  “You’re crazy!” Aiden stood abruptly. “I’m not taking the blame for this.”

  “Shhh.” Scarlet held up her hand. She heard voices in the other room.

  “I’m going to tell them exactly what happened. What I saw happen. I don’t understand why you keep trying to push this off on me.”