Forget Me Knot

by Melissa Glisan

  “Fine,” Sandy muttered, staring a hole through Madden as he walked up their front steps, “but be home in time for your violin lessons.”

  Celena squealed in joy, hugging her mom before running out the front door.

  ****

  June 1, 1995 – Coopers Rocks State Park

  The crunch of gravel as Red and Celena walked dazedly through the parking area was the only warning the rescue group had. There was a moment of stunned silence before men and women hurried forward to the blood and dirt-streaked teens. Gently, a paramedic tried to get Red to let go of Celena’s shoulders, he had an eye on a gaping wound on the young man’s hip and unhealthy looking claw marks at shoulder and calf.

  “Easy son,” he coaxed, “lean on me now,” he urged in a low voice. For a moment a spark of understanding flared in the youth’s shocked ice-blue eyes, and his grip loosened. Then Sandy Black descended on the ragged pair screaming hysterically for rape kits, forcibly dragging her daughter away.

  Celena tripped as too many hands pulled her in too many directions; reflexively, she turned and reached for safety—for Madden. She never noticed her mother as Madden clutched her to his chest with his good arm. It wasn’t until after he snarled and bit down on a soft, white limb that Celena awoke from the nightmare of their experience to see her mother screaming at Madden, calling him an animal. The shock was too great and she collapsed into a well of darkness that opened between her feet. Spiraling downward, she thought she heard a host of voices calling after her, begging for her to stay, but it was too late.

  Celena sagged into deadweight, and Madden fell forward onto his damaged knee, the pain forced open his jaws as his world dimmed then exploded in shards of too bright light as time fragmented into segments of pain. The worst was the gaping wound in his heart. He was an animal. Celena could never love him, not after what he’d done to save her.

  Chapter Two

  Locking Horns

  February 2006

  Daniel’s Bed and Breakfast, McClellan WV

  Five feet of polished walnut table separated Frank Horne and Flora Daniels, but they might as well be standing toe-to-toe. Madden “Red” Silvestri dropped his tired head into his hands, his elbows perched on the very same table, midway between the quarreling pair, feeling the vibrations of anger resonating in the hundred-year-old wood.

  “I don’t see why you need to ‘have a look around’ my greenhouse stores, not if you won’t allow me to examine the skins that woman had.” Flora glared across the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “For one,” Frank spoke through bared teeth, “the hides weren’t stolen from me and they certainly aren’t a deadly poison.” The tension level in the room cranked up another notch and Red felt like he was drowning. Why couldn’t they just screw and get it over with? Okay, so Flora didn’t realize that everyone in the house could tell she had the hots for this Horne guy, but no one could figure out why she didn’t play nice with the man instead of poking him with verbal sticks. Red had a sick feeling in his guts that she’d poke the guy with real sticks if people wouldn’t stop disarming her.

  “Oh, I see. So now you’re not only a travel mogul you’re a security one versed in plant pharmacology as well.” Red felt the other man move to speak, and forestalled him by surging to his feet and slapping his palms flat on the table.

  “This is ridiculous,” Red barked the words at Flora with more heat than he originally intended. He just knew his brother, Marc, would be all over him the moment he walked out the front door. Marc was married to Flora’s triplet sister Lora. Given Lora’s recent delivery of a trio of baby boys, Marc was unstable when it came to the females of his growing family.

  “How hard would it be to give the man a tour of your damned greenhouse? Half the county has been in and out of the place. What’s one more person?” Flora sank down in her seat with a petulant pout while Frank puffed up his chest in self-importance.

  “And you,” Red’s voice dropped to a menacing growl. “Don’t think I can’t tell exactly who and what you are. Those hides are important. Every person working on this situation needs to see and understand just what the hell is going on.” Horne subsided, studying Red in a way that should have made him uncomfortable. He allowed the feeling of unease to slide through his guts and focused on the seated man.

  “There will be another person coming to help us, won’t there?” Frank asked gently as if understanding part of Red’s uneasiness. Red, however, had a feeling that Frank had just as much ability to read human minds as his twin brother Lupercus. While Red would bend and acknowledge Lupercus as the ultimate alpha of the man-wolf clan, the stag-born twin was another story. Many things you could hide from a wolf, a deer wasn’t one of them.

  “Yes.” Red hated admitting that he needed help, let alone the help of the particular person on her way to McClellan. He hadn’t even had to call her--she called him stating she was coming. How she even knew where he lived was a mystery. “Just quit your bickering,” Red sighed, running a hand through his thick red-streaked hair, tugging the thick strands. “I know it’s like some kind of demented foreplay for you two, but it’s brutal on my blood pressure.”

  Mouth agape, Flora watched the short coupled form of her sister’s brother-in-law stalk out of the room gripping his head in his hands. Damn! She had to go and forget that Red had way too much on the ball. He spent so much time in his other shape that some wolf attributes followed him back into human form more often than not--like his abilities to scent and hear. Other things hinted at his dual nature, his almost over developed musculature, the round pointed canine teeth from the lateral incisors back to the molars. He was the only one that needed a specialty dentist to hide his nature. When Lora and Marc had married, Flora learned how Marc’s “Lord” provided for the dentist without batting an eye at the expense. It was then that she had started wondering if perhaps the Wolf Lord knew something about the older Silvestri male that he wasn’t saying.

  Still it irked her big time, having Red spill the beans about how she felt regarding Frank Horne. Then it hit her, demented foreplay for you two, Red hadn’t been bitching at just her. The thought gave her something interesting to mull over as she rose to her feet and silently invited the handsome playboy millionaire to join her on a tour of her property.

  Flora’s Flowers was a greenhouse with attached barn behind Daniel’s Bed and Breakfast. She had started the business as an agricultural arts student in high school, with an inexpensive plastic greenhouse system, and slowly turned the place into the classic glass and steel structure it was today. She felt more than pride in her business—it was a passion. Flora simply couldn’t imagine a day without having her hands immersed wrist deep in soil.

  Well, that was up until she got the midnight call from Ashley Cooper asking to reserve rooms for Lupercus, herself, Frank Horne, and the world’s two most exasperating dogs. At first she was pleasantly surprised that Frank Horne was a vegetarian like herself, she loved cooking and welcomed the challenge of cooking meals she enjoyed on a larger scale. In fact she had a book full of recipes she didn’t dare try with the overwhelming meat-eating population of the Silvestri Clan perpetually camped in the dining room.

  That wasn’t exactly fair Flora admitted, shrugging on her coat and heading for the mud room off of the spotless, shining, stainless steel kitchen. The kitchen was a mix of old and new. The patterned brick walls and odd cast iron mementos of the room’s bygone era seemed to offset the gleaming counters and cook tops exceptionally well. Turning and opening the door, she stood back to let Frank pass.

  “Don’t you need a coat?” she asked. The man never seemed to wear a jacket, just some thin sweater or vest over his button festooned dress shirts.

  “No, it’s not really that cold.” He shrugged, walking off the kitchen porch and onto the concrete and stone path connecting the inn to her greenhouse. Not really that cold? Her mind spun in shock, today’s high was only seventeen degrees and the sun hadn’t finished rising for the day. The
flower-shaped thermometer hanging gaily outside of the door to the greenhouse drove that fact home, it was only twelve degrees, yet Horne wasn’t the least bit discomfited.

  “Men,” she grumbled, pushing past him to unlock the door. The entrance to her business had an odd design. There was a small foyer area separating the barn from the greenhouse which served as an office as well as an airlock to protect the more delicate plants from winter’s chill kiss. The floor was slate and slippery in cold and wet weather so there were woven reed rugs lining the walk areas.

  Taking a moment to hang up her coat, Flora checked the thermostats for the different growth zones. Everything was set properly and she nodded approval before turning to face Frank. His head was up, eyes half closed as his nostrils dilated sampling the air. When the wolfies of Red’s clan did the same it looked spooky, Horne just looked…well nosy.

  “I am not nosy.” He frowned.

  Flora found she liked the almost serious look as it perfectly offset his long angular face. He had such gorgeous features despite being a little too thin. High cheekbones, square jaw that ended in a slightly rounded point, and chocolate brown eyes she could swim in. What really captured her fancy was his hair. One afternoon she had literally spent an hour puzzling over the color. The sun cascaded through a window and it lit up a fine russet-gold, but in the bleak overcast late February morning it faded to a sable brown. There were times when she swore the color was medium brown with black strands lending it the impression of being darker. No matter, it looked far softer than normal hair if her scraggly mop was anything to go by.

  “Of course you’re not nosy,” she mocked. “You just read everyone’s mind. At least your brother only does it when he has to, you do it non-stop.”

  “Who says that I don’t need to scan thoughts non-stop,” he challenged.

  “Aw c’mon.” Flora flapped her arms in disgust, the large brass ring of keys jingling merrily. “Wolf-man and god? Puh-lease, like you have anything to fear.” She turned and inserted the key in the lock to the barn entrance, tapping in the code on the security system from memory.

  “Whoever said I was part wolf, you foolish little girl?”

  Flora looked over her shoulder. If looks could kill, she’d be bleeding on the floor.

  “You’re twins right?” She mentally backpedaled, “I just assumed –”

  “I see. You just assumed that because we are twins we are alike. You of all people should know better,” he bit out, hurt plainly evident in his voice, “being a triplet with nothing in common with your sibs.”

  It was a cheap shot and it hit home with more intensity than Frank had intended. He knew that it bothered the young woman that she was so different from her triplet sisters, but not how much it hurt. Not until her eyes dilated and all the pain his words unleashed bubbled to the surface of her mind. Tears filled the pansy purple-green eyes and she turned, stroking her thumb over the reset button.

  “I need to get some work done in the greenhouse first, maybe later.” She turned and walked from the barn entrance to the glass double doors, typing in the numbers in a blur of motion passing through the doors and pulling them closed behind her almost before he could think to form the words to apologize. Frank walked to the glass portal as she lowered rice paper shades that gave her privacy from the office area. It wasn’t her fault he was so on edge, felt so threatened.

  Laura Faust. Lay the blame where it’s due. Frank studied the floor, hands in his pants pockets, and considered, he could spend another day in his room with the pelts of his kinder, or he could try to make amends. It wasn’t Flora’s fault that over two thousand years ago Lupercus had become entranced with a beautiful human maid named Laurentia, pulling her from the arms of her newly hand-fasted human husband. Not even the human male had held it against the Wolf Lord. But the woman’s family had.

  This left them where they were today, lost in a daze of uncertainty over how to act to stop additional attacks on Lupercus and his small tribe of man-wolves. The last attack had left the tribe’s doctor seriously damaged. Somehow during the last full moon Laura Faust, the last direct descendant of Faustulus’ line, had managed to strip the poor shape shifter of his wolf pelt without killing him, but locking him forever in human form.

  Looking at the rice paper blinds didn’t stop him from feeling the emotional welter bubbling over on the other side. The only good thing to come of the whole mess was his brother finally found his destined mate, Ashley Cooper, and that horrid Faust woman was safely ensconced in the local jail. Imagine killing a poor traveler and trying to pass her off as Ashley, he shook his head in disgust. The lengths some folks would go for revenge they weren’t even due.

  Frank sighed and headed back to the house. Perhaps Red’s mystery assistant would show up and give him something to think about beyond the terrible mistake he just made. There was something about Flora that made him look twice when he hadn’t been able to focus on a single female in over a millennia.

  For kicks he had returned to the country he grew up in, but Italy had grown, Rome had grown. The verdant hills replaced with limestone and marble edifices to any and every god imaginable, pantheons of villages, cities, states, conquered nations and visiting travelers. Bemused he wandered the streets and not a few tavernas looking for the inevitable ridiculous edifices devoted to Lupercus and himself. After his third drunken week staggering down palazzos and aqueducts no longer in use, he found a rather devout gentleman praying to an altar full of beautiful flowers.

  At the time his drunken logic seemed to make sense, flowers are of nature just like stags and wolves. The man slowly rose from his worship and respectfully indicated he needed to go north, to the Greek area where Pan was held in regard. Confused, he moved along, the Pan was more a goat than a stag. The next passerby he asked how to find a shrine dedicated to the Stag Lord. The old woman spat at his feet in disgust and rambled on about something to do with ‘filthy Celts’ and stated he would need to leave the city and ascend the mountains.

  Bemused, he looked around and noticed that all of the mountains save one was populated with spires and buildings. Leaving the city he found a tranquil lake devoted to Diana, and nearly quit the place in anger. A wild-eyed man challenged his right to be in the holy place. Outraged and not a little drunk Faunus shifted form and showed the man his true face. Astounded, the man dropped to his knees and called him Cernunnos. It all fell into place. He’d fled his brother and his home, and in confusion the people of Fidenae had forgotten—confusing his tales with Pan of the Greeks. Leaving the grove he sadly reflected that at least the rough and wooly Celts named him true, ‘the horned one.’

  That night he met an acolyte of Flora as he passed by the flower strewn altar, seeking a deep wine skin to drown in. She was blessing some seeds a farmer had left under his tithe of blossoms for the goddess. The girl caught his attention so he plied her with questions.

  Busy working, she quietly explained that man had grown vain and stopped praying to the goddess and many years passed, the crops slowly failing as she faded. It was nearly two hundred years later that the ground went fallow, barren under the exquisite care of even the most talented gardener. Then man returned to prayers and tithes but many believed they waited too long, that the goddess had faded forever.

  Gently, he cupped the girl’s small chin and looked deep into her sad brown eyes and read her soul. The child had a gift of bringing life to the seeds she touched, but she wasn’t the goddess, she couldn’t last forever. He felt moved and gently kissed the soft sweet lips of the girl, remembering how he was once believed to be the wellspring of fertility and blessed the child so that her daughters would have the same gift, but only one per generation lest the gift become abused. She had been smallish, even for a teen, with a thin face and shaggy cut black hair.

  Shaking his head, he wondered perhaps if he didn’t confuse Flora with that same girl child so many years ago. His foray into the past had led him on an ambling tour of the grounds dropping him in front of the bed a
nd breakfast where a solemn figure draped in a shawl spun from moonbeams stood, looking at the sign above the main entrance with more interest than the simple notice was due.

  “Can I help you pretty miss?” Flirtation was as natural as it was expected given the curvy figure before him. She turned and he started, the young woman wasn’t wearing a funny looking shawl, it was her hair. From crown to mid-back ice-white hair flowed around her form, but it was her gaze, velvet grey with purple stains under her eyes that held his tongue. He watched as the ashy orbs took him in, darkened to near black. The pupils never seemed to move but must have because he felt the weight of that stare down to the tops of his shoes. It was the same feeling of being coolly insignificant that had haunted him as a young buck, standing under the clear night sky when the new moon rode the heavens.

  The black receded like ink being pulled into a pen, leaving the girl’s irises the shade of cinders as she spoke. “You must be Faunus, pleasure, I’m sure. I’m here to see Madden.” With that she turned and moved to the bell-pull beside the front door. Frank’s mouth hung open. Aside from Lupercus, no one living should know his true name.

  Chapter Three

  Loose Ends

  Celena was tired. The day dragged at her painfully. It had been so long since she really slept that she was starting to doubt the things she saw--never a good thing. But that was the price she was willing to pay to help Madden. Her heart still ached every time she thought of him, the pain of losing him never diminished. The last time she had seen him, he was covered in blood and dirt, dragging her along a wooded trail, promising that everything would be all right. Her eyesight went funny, blurry at first then distorted with odd colors, it made her feel sick to her stomach so she closed her eyes.

  Smacking the steering wheel of her rental car, Celena cursed aloud. Why couldn’t she have been a little stronger, a little faster or a whole lot smarter? For a genius, she had always been an idiot. Pulling into the driveway of the Daniel’s Bed and Breakfast, she hoped for the chance to make things right, to earn Madden’s trust again. Looking at the bright white paint on the pretty wood-sided house, she admitted that she would be content with just seeing Madden and knowing he was truly happy.