Digging the Wolf: a paranormal romance (Werewolves of Crookshollow Book 1)

by Steffanie Holmes

  “Hi there,” I said, suddenly feeling a bit stupid. “Um, I don’t know if you remember me—”

  “Of course,” Clara grinned, showing a row of crooked teeth. She set down the books on the counter, and bustled over to us. She took my hand and rubbed it in her own, her wrinkled fingers cool to the touch. “You were the girl who’d just met a werewolf. And I see you’ve brought along your friend.”

  “Luke, this is Clara.” I expected him to shake her hand, but instead he just glared intently at her across the counter.

  “I remember you, too, young man.” Clara said, her eyes sparkling. “I never forget a shifter.”

  “You have remarkable sight.” Luke said.

  “It is one of my gifts.”

  “Is your other consorting with dangerous wolves?”

  “Luke!” I couldn’t believe how rude he was being.

  Clara chuckled. “Don’t worry, pet. His behaviour is understandable, given the circumstances. Remember, I told you a wolf is always overprotective of his mate.”

  “I never said I was his mate.”

  “If you say so, dear. I take it you have found some kind of object.”

  I held out the book to her. “A powerful werewolf has touched this. I believe it was originally brought from you. We need to know how if any other wolves have come in wanting Lycan pills, and if there’s any way to find this particular wolf.”

  “No other wolves have come in, apart from you, the grumpy guy from the other day, and my regulars.”

  “Can the book tell you anything about the wolf?”

  Clara took the book in her hands and studied the title for a long time. She slid it back across the counter towards me. “I’m afraid you will not find him until he wants to be found. It is a skilled magical worker who has handled this book. I cannot get any kind of reading from this book, and nor did I get anything when I sold it. If this wolf is as powerful as you say, I would’ve remembered him. Not even my sight can pick up anything, except that the wolf who handled this book means you great harm. ”

  “My friend was the one who brought it,” I said. “His name is Derek. He studies mythology. He probably comes in here to buy books a lot.”

  She looked startled for a moment. Then she yanked the book across the counter and flipped through the pages again. “Yes,” she breathed. “It does smell a bit like Derek. I don’t remember selling him this particular volume, but he does buy a lot of things from me.”

  “Someone broke into my house today, and they left their scent behind. Luke can smell it on the book.”

  “That’s because he wanted you to,” Clara said, laying the book out flat, and opening it to the middle. She pulled a small magnifying glass from the drawer below the till, and examined the spine and the edges of the pages. She pulled a thin pair of tweezers from the purse on her belt, and dug them into the binding. A few moments later she pulled out a thin quill. “Yes, this is a very skilled magical worker indeed.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Part of a spell,” Clara said, sniffing the quill. “A charm, actually. You’d need to have this tested to confirm, of course, but I’m pretty sure it’s poisoned.”

  “Someone’s trying to poison me?” I gasped.

  “Unlikely. This is part of a love spell. It’s designed to ‘poison’ you against the one you love.”

  I glanced at Luke. His face shone red with rage. “So what do we do?” Luke demanded.

  Clara slammed the book shut. “Nothing. At the moment.”

  “Well, you’re a great help.” Luke snatched the book off the table.

  “Luke,” I tugged on his shoulder. “What about Caleb?”

  “Of course.” Luke growled. “That scheming bastard. It must be him. He hid his true scent from me. He convinced me he was my cousin, that we were family. And all this time he was here to destroy everything and take you for himself.”

  “No!” I grabbed his arm. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t think Caleb is this big bad wolf. What I mean is, he’s all alone at the caves, and he has no idea how powerful this other wolf is.”

  Luke’s face darkened. “Either way, we need to get back to the caves.”

  We raced out of the store without even saying goodbye to Clara. Luke threw the book onto the back seat of my Mini, and started climbing into the driver’s seat. “Excuse me,” I jabbed my finger at the passenger side.

  “We don’t have time for you to get all possessive about your car.” Luke huffed. “I will drive us there faster. Simple fact.”

  “I’m allowed to be possessive about the car. It’s my car. And as for speed,” I twirled the keys around my finger. “You ain’t seen nothing until you’ve seen what I can do in a Mini.”

  Luke relented. I climbed in, fastened my belt, and stomped on the gas. The Mini zoomed off down the high street and nailed the first corner. We took off towards the forest at breakneck speed. I felt a flash of satisfaction as I glanced over at the passenger seat and saw Luke gripping the dash with white knuckles.

  “What’s that?” he cried suddenly, when we were nearly at the dig.

  “This, Luke Lowe, is how driving should be done.”

  “No, that up ahead.” He was already undoing his belt. “Stop the car.”

  I pulled over on the side of the track, my heart beating as I noticed the police cars up ahead. An ambulance was parked on the other side of the road, its lights off. As I got out of the car, a stern-looking woman in a grey suit jogged towards us, motioning for us to go back.

  “You can’t be here.” she said, waving a police ID at us. Inspector Diana Layne. “Please drive on.”

  Luke dug an ID card from his wallet. “I’m the ranger in the forest.” he said, his voice stern. “What’s happened? Someone should have called me.”

  She glanced down at Luke’s ID, and frowned. “We did call you. Your phone went straight to voicemail. But since you’re here now, you’ll need to give a statement to my DS. There’s been a murder.”

  A murder? My chest tightened. I thought of the other archaeologists, working in the cave unaware of the werewolves lurking in the forest. “Who?” I demanded.

  Inspector Layne’s gaze flicked over to me. “We’re not giving out information to the public at this stage.”

  “This is Anna Sinclair.” Luke said, his hand resting protectively on the small of my back. “She’s working on the excavation. Is it one of the archaeologists?”

  “Anna Sinclair?” Inspector Layne frowned even harder. “Then you’ll need to give a statement, too. Your name has come up in our inquiries.”

  “It has?”

  “The victim was a reporter from the Daily Post. Her name was—,” she consulted her clipboard, “—Misty Sharpe. It looks as though Ms Sharpe was coming out to the archaeological site to conduct more research. She stopped here, parked her car, and then walked a few yards before someone tackled her and tore her throat out.”

  My head spun. Misty was dead? I’d only talked to her yesterday. Her ridiculous article was on the Internet just this morning. How could she be dead? And who would have done such a thing? To have her throat torn out, like a wild animal...

  Inspector Layne gave me a pointed look. “She was coming here to talk to you, Miss Sinclair. Apparently, there was quite an article about you published this morning, and Misty was hoping for a follow-up. It seems you are…” she consulted her notes. I could see she had a printout of Misty’s article. “…hot-headed and unremorseful about your part in your boyfriend’s mysterious death …”

  My face blazed. Death followed me everywhere, it seems. My mind swirled with memories of the police at my house, asking for information about Ben, telling my mother Dad was dead, escorting me to the morgue to identify the body. It was the same thing all over again. This cannot be happening.

  But it was. While we gave our statements to the detective sergeant, leaving out the bit about the shower and the black wolf, a SOCO team buzzed around the site in their white coats and gloves. Four officers manoe
uvred a stretcher into the ambulance. On the stretcher was a large, black bag. I couldn’t believe that inside was Misty Sharpe, her stiletto heels no doubt still on her feet.

  Misty was dead, and the police thought I had something to do with it. But I knew better. One thing was for certain. The discovery of the caves had brought more wolves to Crookshollow. And one of them had murder on his mind.

  And that meant I could be next.

  18

  Luke

  I had to hand it to Anna. She really knew how to put her foot down. The Mini careened along the dirt road like it was on a NASCAR track. Her brow was creased in concentration, her entire being focused on putting as much space between us and the cops as possible. In no time at all I could make out the white side of the caravan and the orange pup tents through the trees. My stomach clenched with nerves, every sense on high alert.

  I knew Caleb had been lying to me. He’d already attacked Anna once, and he’d openly declared he was prepared to challenge me for her. And now some wolf was showing up at her house, leaving her books laced with poison? And a reporter who interviewed her has turned up dead? Caleb knew something about all this, and I needed to shake it out of him, by any means possible.

  “Caleb!” I yelled, leaping out before Anna had even pulled to a stop.

  No reply. From the caravan, I heard peals of laughter. Ruth. Ruth was laughing. Ruth didn’t laugh. Laughing was impossible when you had a stick shoved that far up your own arse.

  Maybe it wasn’t a laugh. Maybe it was the sound of her choking on her own bullshit. Maybe the black wolf had already got to them. I raced up the stairs of the caravan, heart hammering against my chest, and thrust open the door.

  The site that greeted me stopped me short. “Um…”

  Caleb stood behind the stove, wearing a rolled-up topographic map as a chef’s hat and an apron with a picture of a Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton and the word YOLO on the front. He was flipping crepes in a large frying pan. Batter coated every surface of the kitchen, and bits of burned crepes clung to the ceiling like determined limpets. Around the counter sat Frances, Ruth and Max, all roaring with laughter as Caleb flipped a pancake over his shoulder without looking. It landed on one of the plates sitting on the counter, and Frances leaned forward to claim it as her own.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded, my eyes meeting Caleb’s. Anna clambered up the stairs behind me and peered in underneath my arm.

  “Oh, Luke,” Ruth gasped between giggles. “Have you met Caleb? He’s a reporter for the Ecological Gazette. He’s writing a piece on the impact of archaeological discoveries on the natural environment, so he’s going to be camping on site for a few days to observe us.”

  “I thought it would be just the kind of anti-archaeologist piece you’d approve of,” Frances said between mouthfuls.

  “The police were just here, asking questions about a murder that happened nearby. I’m just trying to cheer everyone up. Hi.” Caleb stretched out a batter-covered hand. I shook it, frowning at him. What was his game here?

  “Nice to meet you, Caleb.” Anna reached around me, and shook his hand, staring up at him warmly. “Do you have one of those crepes for me?”

  “Sure do.” He loaded up the pan with a spoonful of batter, splashing most of it over the sides. I wanted to tear the crepe from her hands, but I couldn’t do that in front of the others. Soon, all the archaeologists were around the counter, chewing on their crepes

  “Would you like one, too, ranger?” Caleb grinned cheekily at me. I blinked. His face had a certain familiarity to it. With his reddish hair, he reminded me a little of my dad, just younger and more evil.

  “We need to talk,” I hissed in Caleb’s ear. He nodded as he slid a crepe onto a plate and handed it to me. I tossed it in the rubbish bin beside the bench. Anna glanced between us, then casually reminded Frances what time it was.

  “Oh, we’ve got to get back!” The professor wiped the crumbs from around her mouth. “The crew will be wanting to interview Ruth again while the rain has stopped. Caleb,” she threw a quick glance in my direction. “Don’t forget to wear the hard hat I gave you if you come back to the caves.”

  “I won’t.” Caleb tapped the brim of his hard hat, which was sitting on the bench beside the sink, splattered with flour and batter.

  The archaeologists filed out of the caravan, leaving me alone with my supposed cousin and easy access to a knife rack. Caleb swiped off his paper hat, and nonchalantly poured himself a cup of tea.

  “What is it, little cousin?” He sneered, as he brought the cup to his lips.

  I growled, the wolf in me pressing against my skin, begging to be set free to tear him to shreds. But before I could confront him, Anna dropped the book on the table. “Can’t you smell it?”

  “Not really…oh, shit.” Caleb took a deep whiff of the cover, and his eyes grew wide. “I’ve smelled this wolf before.”

  “Of course you have.” I growled. “It’s your scent.”

  “Luke,” Anna warned.

  “Excuse me?” Caleb lowered his mug.

  “I’m starting to think this black wolf is an illusion. It’s the only explanation that fits all the facts. You’ve enchanted this book to be a love spell, so you can have Anna for yourself. I followed your scent in the forest, and it merged with this same scent on the book. That’s because both scents are from the same wolf – you. That’s why the scent appears and disappears, and why the black wolf hasn’t been anywhere near the site, and why I’ve never seen you or him together. He’s a glamour. I don’t know how you’re doing it all, but we have it on good authority the charm on the book is pretty powerful. You must have some considerable skill.”

  “Have you been smoking something, ranger?” Caleb waved his hand in front of my eyes. “Because you’re crazy. I’m just me. I’m not posing as a black wolf. I’m not running around murdering reporters. I’ve been here all day, keeping the team safe. You can ask them.”

  “I will. Come clean now, and I might not rip your throat out.”

  Caleb laughed. “This is fucking ridiculous. One wolf having two scents is impossible. Besides, I’ve seen the other wolf. So unless you think I can magically alter my appearance as well—”

  “Well, can’t you?”

  “Of course I bloody can’t! Look, of course I want Anna – she’s fucking gorgeous and an ideal mate. Who wouldn’t want her? But I’m not about to kill my only living relative in order to get her. You and I are more powerful together, little cousin. We need to find the black wolf, and take him out before he kills someone else. He’s hiding down by the stream somewhere.”

  “I know where he is,” I said.

  “Good. Because I’ve been following the faint whiff of his trails over the forest for the last few days, and I couldn’t find his lair. He’s clearly disguising his scent. At first I thought it might be an old trail, but then I’ve seen him stalking around.”

  “And this wolf wants me?” Anna looked sick. “Why did he kill the reporter?”

  “I don’t know.” I said, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her close. “But we have to be careful. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “If this wolf claimed these lands for himself, then he’d naturally assume he’d be able to take you for his own.” Caleb said.

  “That’s not going to happen,” I gripped Anna’s hand, squeezing it. “We’ve been assuming he wouldn’t attack in broad daylight, but the police said Ms Sharpe was killed a couple of hours ago. He’s more dangerous than we know. I’m assuming you couldn’t convince Frances to call off the dig?”

  “Not a chance.” Anna said.

  “Then we need to guard the site, around-the-clock surveillance.”

  “Agreed.” Anna said. “And if we are dealing with a magical wolf, we’ll need some kind of magical protection.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t believe I’m even suggesting this, but perhaps Clara has some charms or spells or things that can help protect us.” An
na glanced at her watch. “By the time I got back to town, she’d have closed the shop. But I’ll head in first thing tomorrow.”

  Caleb picked up his hard hat. “I’m going back to the caves. I’ll be able to watch out for the crew while I’m there.”

  “We’re coming, too.” I grabbed Anna’s coat from the rack by the door and tossed it to her. There was no way I was letting Caleb back in those caves without being present. Anna may trust him, but I sure didn’t.

  Caleb and I spent the last few hours of daylight taking turns holding lights while Frances and Anna painstakingly brushed mud and debris off the cave paintings. Ruth was busy on the surface with another film crew.

  After dinner, Anna sat down with her stack of books, and started on her research. A fervour to prove the paintings fake had taken hold of her – she said that if she could do that, then maybe that would convince Frances to call off the dig, and that would get the whole crew to safety.

  Not wanting to leave her side, I pulled over one of the books – a history of supernatural occurrences in Crookshollow – and flipped to the section on the Victorian era. My eyes fell on a chapter about the Peytons.

  …. famed for their prowess as witch hunters, the Peyton family had a place of honour in the Crookshollow community. During the late Victorian period, patriarch Robert Peyton was bishop of Loamshire and he led some of the last witch hunts on English soil, primarily against what he called “shifters of form who did poison the earth with their unnatural visage.” The family was supposedly haunted by a cursed relative who could change his form into a wolf. They committed this unfortunate cousin to a mental asylum. Peyton and his family stabbed to death at least eighteen people they believed to be shapeshifters, including a family who lived in a cave in the woods near Crookshollow …

  Beside me, Anna was scribbling notes furiously. “I’ve got it,” she whispered to me, jabbing her finger at one of the cave paintings on the screen. “You won’t believe it, Luke. It was so simple.”