“She’d love to see you,” I tell him, filling the sink with warm, sudsy water. “I’ll let her know you’re coming.”
After he walks out, I start washing. Nonni retrieves a dishcloth and wipes off the table. “You’re right,” she says. “It’s not my time yet, but I do want to see you girls settled before I go.”
All this talk about death makes my skin crawl. At least Korbin is nowhere in sight. “Don’t worry, Nonni. We have each other, and I know my sisters will always be there for me.”
After we’re done, I accept the rest of the eggs from Nonni and she walks me out. Brodin has arrived and he and Poppi are loading the old pickup with tools and new fencing.
“Morning,” Brodin calls.
I wave.
“Be careful going home,” Poppi says to me. “Steer clear of those paranormal investigators.”
I tap my cape, feeling the magick flowing through it and into me. Lenore appears, cawing to me from an oak. “I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
The woods are welcoming on my way home. Nothing bothers me, and soon, I’m mentally planning my day. I’m experimenting with a new candle scent I’ve named Autumn Reading Nook that combines the scents of books, a cracking fireplace, and a faint aroma of spiced cider. I also have an order for Finn’s mother to fill.
I’m happy and ready for the day, until I approach the rear entrance to the shop. “Oh no,” I mutter as Lenore circles overhead, her call sharp and brittle.
Lying on the bottom step of our back porch is an unmoving form—long gray and black hair, a protruding snout, and a bushy tail.
The beautiful fur is marred with blood. The chest barely rises and falls with the animal’s breathing, the eyes closed.
A wolf, at least six feet in length, lies unconscious and bleeding at my feet.
Chapter Two
“You poor thing.” I set the basket down, Lenore landing on the railing. “What happened?”
Hurriedly, I remove my cape and throw it over the wolf’s massive body. It barely covers him; his hindquarters and head stick out on either end.
As I adjust the material, I whisper a healing charm. Then I take out my phone and search my contacts for the veterinarian’s office.
My sisters and I have cared for many injured forest animals through the years. Our mother used to as well, and we learned our skills from her teachings. However, we’ve never nursed a wild wolf back to health.
As the landline at the clinic rings and rings, I kneel at the head, careful to maintain some distance in case it wakes. An injured animal is always dangerous, and he could eat me in one chomp.
In his sleeping state, he looks quite harmless, and I risk stroking the beautiful muzzle. “Please don’t die,” I murmur to him. To the ringing in my ear, I say impatiently, “Come on, come on. Be there. I need help.”
The wolf’s eyes crack open.
They’re rich, dark chocolate with flecks of emerald green. A deep, laborious exhale flutters his lips, revealing the ends of his canines, and I cautiously draw my hand back.
“Don’t worry, now,” I soothe. “I’m going to take care of you.” If you’ll let me.
I sense the cape trying to heal his wounds. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work on animals. I rack my brain for a spell, but I can’t seem to remember one for this type of situation. “You’re going to be okay.”
His eyes stay locked on mine. The pointed ear I can see twitches, as if he’s homing in on my voice.
The line continues to ring, and I click off. Where is this new vet? Why doesn’t he have an answering machine hooked up? Doctor Frederick always did.
I consider calling the veterinarian Story Cove had for over forty years, but he’s now retired, and last I heard, he and his wife are in southern Florida for the winter.
As I hold the wolf’s steady gaze, I chew my bottom lip. I could call my cousin, Robyn, at the police station, but she’ll contact animal control. They won’t be able to help the wolf either, only remove him from this spot. There’s a wildlife reserve fifty miles away, but what should I do with him in the meantime, if they’ll even come and get him?
The wolf’s eyes drift shut.
Heaving a sigh of relief, I stare again at my magickal cloak. Passed down from my mother and hers before her, it’s a beautiful deep red. It can heal many human ailments. Not all, but some. We’ve tried it on animals, and once on a beloved tree hit by lightning in our backyard, to no avail. It only seems to respond to human DNA.
Cinder! Surely she’ll know what to do. The four of us should be able to move him if necessary, and Uncle Odin and Matilda might also be able to lend a hand.
It’s an hour until the shop opens, but as I fly through the house, it appears almost empty. I hear someone in the shower, the water pipes rattling as I climb the stairs to the second floor. Must be Zelle—I bang on the door. “I need help. Meet me out back!”
I continue down the hall and knock on Uncle Odin’s bedroom door, then on our godmother’s. There’s no response from either. Where is everyone?
Belle must be on her way to the bank for the morning deposit. I scan my brain, trying to remember if the van was out back, but I was so distracted by the wolf, I didn’t notice. Cinder probably took it and is at the hardware store or lumberyard buying materials.
In desperation, I try the vet clinic again, while grabbing a sweater for myself, along with a blanket for the injured animal. After half a dozen rings, I give up once more and hurry to the porch.
The screen door slams shut behind me as I stand in shock at the sight that greets my eyes.
There’s no longer a wolf on the bottom step under my cloak.
But there is a naked man.
Chapter Three
He runs a hand through his black, wavy hair and stands on shaky legs. “Where am I?”
The cloak falls. I can’t stop my gasp. He snatches it, attempting to hide his lower half. He manages to do so, but not until I’ve seen his muscular legs, and…other interesting things.
His feet and legs are covered in grime. Dark traces of blood are mixed in. His arms are also a mess. There’s a generous amount of dried leaves tangled in his hair.
Blushing and tearing my gaze away, I try to get my voice under control. His fit body is hard to ignore, despite the dirt and wounds.
The wounds are starting to heal, thanks to my cloak. Human, wolf… My mind turns that over. I unfold the blanket, shaking it out and holding it like a curtain between us as I pretend finding a naked man in my yard is an everyday occurrence. “You’re at the Enchanted Candle and Soap Company, my home. It appears you’ve had a rough night.”
He’s well over six feet. When I dare peek up, his intense gaze is on my face over the top of the blanket. “And where is this place? What town?”
This isn’t good if he can’t remember that. “Story Cove.”
He looks blank.
“In Georgia.”
I sense him trying to reorient himself. “I’m Ruby,” I tell him, my mouth dry thanks to his intense stare. “Ruby Sherwood.”
“Ruby.”
My name sounds like a purr on his tongue. I know my cheeks must be as red as my cloak.
The garment falls to the ground at his feet, and he accepts the blanket, his fingers brushing mine as he takes it from me. I linger a heartbeat too long, staring into those beautiful eyes flecked with bright green like the wolf’s.
“You’re a…” my mind can’t wrap itself around the word. I’ve heard of them, of course, in fairytales and through popular media, but to come face to face with one?
My sisters and I are witches. Some folks believe we’re not real either.
“I’m…” Two creases form between his bushy brows. “Huh. I can’t seem to remember who I am.” A shake of his head, the dark waves brushing his shoulders. “For the life of me, I can’t recall my name.”
His voice is husky, raw. I think of Poppi mentioning the howling last night in the woods.
A shiver runs through me. I hear Korbin�
�s call.
Trouble.
“Perhaps you hit your head.” I force myself to release the material and step back, averting my eyes as he wraps it around himself. “A case of amnesia. Your memory will return soon. You just need a rest. How about we go inside and clean you up? I have salve for your injuries, and I’m betting a cup of warm, spiced cider will help your mental state.”
“Injuries?”
I point to an obvious gash on his shoulder. It’s no longer seeping, but it’s still an angry red. “You had a rough night in the woods.”
He echoes me again, seeming not to understand any of this either. “The what?”
I gesture, and his gaze follows. “You have birch leaves in your hair.” I motion to one. Now that he’s secured the cover at his waist, I step in to retrieve the yellow serrated piece of foliage. “There are quite a few near the stream.”
His frown deepens. “I’ve never been in the forest.”
At my raised eyebrows and pointed look, he concedes. His gaze goes to his muddy feet, a few crumpled leaves stuck to them as well. “Right. If I can’t remember my own name, how do I know if I’ve been in it or not?”
“What is the last thing you do remember?”
The screen door slaps, startling both of us. “What in the world?”
Zelle is wide-eyed as she stops on the landing and takes in the sight of him.
His eyes also go wide, seeing my sister and her spiked, bright orange hair. She’s wearing a cute jumper in a turquoise shade that normally clashes with such a shocking orange, but on her, it looks stylish. She may not be able to cook, but she’s definitely the sister I go to for fashion advice. She’s also an amazing hairstylist and makeup pro.
One corner of her mouth quirks, and she leans a hip on the railing, causing Lenore to dance backward. Her familiar, Rumpelstiltskin, races down the steps to stop at the man’s feet.
The ferret sniffs then sits on his hind legs and cocks his head as if perplexed by the stranger.
Join the rest of us. “We have a visitor,” I tell her in my most gracious voice. The sun glints over the treetops and Lenore’s beautiful wings glisten. “He’s had a slight mishap and requires a bit of assistance.”
Matilda, in an elaborate multi-tiered skirt and patchwork tunic sweeps through the door and stands next to Zelle. “Well, hello,” she says, looking the man up and down.
Uncle Odin, in his usual trousers and smart vest, emerges behind her and nods at him. “Are you joining us for breakfast, young man? I’ll set another plate.”
Zelle chuckles. “Ruby, you’re a constant source of surprise. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
My cheeks fire up again, the heat coming up the back of my neck this time. I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m Zelle,” she says to the stranger, then points at the others. “This is Matilda and Odin.”
“Who are you?” my godmother asks.
“We haven’t gotten that far,” I tell them, smiling at the man.
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t return it. He shifts from foot to foot, embarrassed.
Gently taking his arm, I guide him up the steps and past my family. “Make some food, Zelle. Don’t burn the toast. Matilda, there are eggs in the basket. You can help her.”
As I push him through the door, I give them all a look. “Best behavior, please. We have a guest to feed.”
Chapter Four
Upstairs, I settle the man on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom, shifting Zelle’s hair products to the side. The mirror is still steamed, but I see the high color in my cheeks. Whether it’s from the chilly air, or the fact I’ve just seen this man naked, is up for debate.
“This place smells amazing.” His nostrils flare as he breathes deeply. He studied the house as I walked him up the stairs to our living quarters. “Great architecture, too. Sort of Gothic with a little Victorian thrown in, huh?”
I snag a clean washcloth from the tiny linen closet and start the hot water tap running. “It’s been in the family for centuries.”
“And you make candles and soap?” At my nod, he takes this in. “Those sell well here in… What town did you say this was?”
“Story Cove, Georgia. Sound familiar?”
A shake of his head. “That’s your family?” He points downward. We can hear the others talking as they climb the steps to our kitchen, although their hushed voices are not distinct enough to tell exactly what they’re saying.
Small miracles.
“Yes. A few.” I gather first aid supplies from the medicine cabinet and arrange them on the cleared counter space. “I have two more sisters, plus my cousin, Snow, who lives on the other side of the forest next to our grandparents. Then there’s Robyn, another cousin. She’s a detective with the Story Cove Police Department.”
“And your parents?”
My heart gives a twinge. “They passed several years ago. Cinder was eighteen, and became our legal guardian. Along with Nonni and Poppi, Matilda and Uncle Odin helped raise us.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
I soak the cloth and ring it out. “Do you think you have family around here?”
He squints as if searching his memory. “I’m not sure, but my gut says yes.” He chuckles without humor. “Like that’s an accurate indicator.”
Actually it is. “You don’t believe in instinct?”
The creases appear and he stares at the floor. “Funny, but now that you ask, I think I do.”
“My dad always claimed that your gut was more accurate than your mind because it’s never learned to doubt itself.”
“Sounds like your father was a wise man.”
“Extremely.” I search for cotton balls, thinking about what Poppi told me earlier. “I know most everyone who lives here, but I don’t know you. Perhaps you’re a visitor?”
He shrugs, his shoulders muscular and strong. “It’s possible.”
“What about TV shows?” I’m reaching now. “What do you like to watch? Paranormal Investigators ring any bells?”
The look that crosses his face suggests I’ve lost him. “None.”
Good. From what I’ve seen, he’s more likely what they’re hunting than one of them.
He frowns as I move in with the supplies and a blue glass bottle containing tea tree oil mixed with witch hazel. “I’m sorry to be a bother.”
I use the wet washcloth to clean his forehead and temples. Quite a bit of dirt comes off. Soaking the cotton ball, I bend forward and touch it to a jagged scratch near his hairline. “It’s no bother.”
He doesn’t flinch, just screws up his nose at the odor. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
I halt my ministrations and realize we’re practically nose to nose. “Would you prefer I take you to the hospital?”
“No, no.” He takes a deep breath. For the first time, his face relaxes, and a faint smile touches his lips. “It seems I’d rather stay here and try to figure out what happened. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
Wrapped in the blanket, he still has plenty of skin exposed. None of his injuries seem life-threatening, mostly scratches and a few puncture wounds.
As witches, my sisters and I are all well-schooled in healing teas, tinctures, and potions. I dab at the scratches and cuts, cleaning away the blood, dirt, and grunge. “I know a good deal of healing applications. You can trust me when it comes to this.”
“I believe I can.” His eyes meet mine and hold.
My cheeks heat again and I break eye contact. What is wrong with me? “However, if you have a concussion, that’s out of my league.”
“Are my pupils uneven?”
Forcing my gaze back to his, I check. “No.”
“I’m not dizzy or sick to my stomach. Vision is normal.” He runs a hand through his hair, disturbing the hubris stuck there. “Pretty sure there’s no concussion.”
“Have you had one before?”
He stares off in space for
a moment. “Can’t say.”
“Could you be a doctor? Or an emergency technician? Seems you know a bit about concussions, if nothing else.”
He considers this, then shakes his head. “My gut says no, but its…odd.”
“Odd how?”
“I’m not sure how to explain it. I got a little tug when you asked, like I might have experience with medical stuff, but…I don’t know. Everything is so fuzzy. Like my memories are right there, yet out of reach.”
I toss the dirty cotton balls, then gently remove the leaves from his long strands. As I run a comb through the tresses, it’s hard not to drool over his large biceps, muscular chest, and flat abs. He has an intricate tribal tattoo on one defined pec.
Teasing the knots from his hair, I watch as he closes his eyes. This gives me the chance to openly stare at his long black eyelashes, his smooth skin, now clean.
Cleaner, anyway.
His torso and legs are still a mess. He’ll have to take care of that himself. I use a special cream of Cinder’s on his open shoulder wound that’s made from a mixture of herbs and more tea tree oil. He sucks in a breath from the sting, but is otherwise stoic.
As I examine the cut, I tsk. It’s bleeding again from my tinkering. I dab at it with a cotton ball. “On second thought, you may need stitches for this gash.”
He glances at the cut and fingers the skin around it. “Nah, it’s not that deep. It should heal fine on its own.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Um… I just do?”
I clean off the fresh blood gently and bandage a cotton ball to it. “Let’s hope it stops on its own. Press your fingers to it.”
He does as I set the container on the counter and study him. With the worst of the grime gone, he looks slightly familiar. His hair is longer, his skin more tanned, but…
The picture in the newspaper flashes across my mind. Everything clicks into place. “Wait! I know who you are.”
He rises and his eyes light. “You do?”
“Yes.” But the real question is what he is. “You should take a shower and clean up the rest of the way. I’ll gather clothes and leave them outside the door. We’ll get you home after that.”
Red Hot Wolfie Page 2
