Falling for a Wolf Box Set

by Mac Flynn

"Far too many," he commented as he strode around the front of the couch and over to the fire. My pitiful attempt was attempting to peter itself to nothing. "You have a knack for extinguishing fires," he commented."

  "It's a gift," I absently replied. My focus lay on my computer. The internet somehow worked, and I wanted to see if my latest column had been uploaded by the IT guys. It was supposed to be available every Saturday morning, and this morning was that morning. I was relieved to see it there on the front page, all nice and readable.

  Then my eyes spotted something on the sidebar. It was under the Entertainment section, and was a headline with an adjoining picture. The picture showed the head of a werewolf howling to a dark night sky. I leaned closer and read the headline aloud. "'Werewolf Terrorizes Isolated Community.'" I wrinkled my nose. "Adam, have you been going out without my knowing?"

  Adam's head perked up and he half turned to me. "Pardon?"

  I pointed at the screen. "Some werewolf's been causing problems at some isolated community. They a friend of yours?"

  He came over and took a seat beside me. His eyes browsed the headline and he frowned. "Let us see the article," he suggested.

  I clicked on the link and sent us to the article. It was short, only three paragraphs. I looked at the location of the werewolf sightings and my mouth dropped open. "That isn't an isolated community! That's my hometown!" I yelped.

  Adam, too, looked flustered. "And I believe we may have a problem."

  "What? Besides me being personally insulted?" I asked him.

  He nodded at the article. "The article describes what may very well be a werewolf attack on wild animals and livestock. The signs of large teeth marks and slashing claws certainly suit a werewolf."

  "Or a bear. I'll admit my hometown is a little on the rough edges, and sometimes main street traffic stops because of bears wandering through," I admitted.

  He shook his head. "A bear does not attack livestock. They would rather forage through trash." He pointed at the middle paragraph. "And there appears to be an eye-witness account to the beast being in the woods."

  I squinted at the paragraph. "'One of the local woodsman reported seeing the creature with his own eyes, and described the beast as one taken from legend.' Sounds serious. What do you think we should do?"

  "We should investigate the matter and see what we might find," he suggested.

  I cringed. "So driving in this weather?" I guessed.

  "Yes, but we will be escaping the heaviest of the snow for a few days," he pointed out.

  I sighed and set my laptop on the coffee table. "I suppose, but where should we stay?"

  "To be as inconspicuous as possible I would suggest the home of your parents. You mentioned this was your hometown," he reminded me.

  My face fell and my shoulders drooped. "Um, how about we stay in a hotel? Might be more comfortable."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Do you not wish to visit with your parents?"

  "It's-well, it's not that. I just haven't told them about-well, about us," I revealed.

  "They must know some time," he countered.

  I sighed and stood. My phone sat on the kitchen counter charging. Nothing sucked the life out of a phone like being in the middle of the wilderness. I rang their number, and in a moment my mom's voice came over the phone. "Hello?"

  "Hi, Mom, it's Christina," I greeted her.

  "Chrissy! It's been so long since you called! Your father and I were getting worried!" she scolded me. Though the phone wasn't on speaker her voice was still loud and chipper enough to be easily heard by Adam, with or without super werewolf hearing.

  "I've-um, I've been busy," I admitted as my eyes swept over to Adam, the reason for my business. "But anyway, I was wanting to visit you guys for a few days." Adam held up seven fingers. "A week, at most."

  "That would be wonderful! We still have your old bedroom ready and your father would be thrilled to show you some of his tinkerings," she told me.

  Adam pointed at me and I sighed. "And I'll be-um, I'll be bringing somebody with me."

  "A girl friend?" she guessed.

  "No, actually, a guy friend," I admitted.

  I pulled the receiver away when a loud squeal came over the line. Adam grinned and and I rolled my eyes. "Oh, Christina! I'm so glad to hear that! We thought you'd never settle down, and your father and I are so looking forward to grandchildren!"

  "Mom!" I scolded her.

  "Oh, but you must tell me about him, and when you're coming! I have to get everything ready. There's the guest tablecloths to wash, the house to scrub, the spare bedroom to prepare-" There was a pause on the other line. "Will he be staying in the spare bedroom?"

  "Yes," I told her.

  "Oh, that's fine, your father and I can wait a little longer for grandchildren," she replied.

  "Mom, you're doing it again," I hissed.

  "Oh, pish-posh, Christsy. I'll have everything ready for you when you come. When can we expect you?" she wondered.

  "Um-" I glanced over to Adam.

  "Today," he whispered.

  "Um, how about today?" I told her.

  There came another squeal of surprise. "Then I must get to the store! Everything will be ready for your boyfriend and you when you come. See you later, sweety!" Click.

  I pulled the phone away from me and saw she'd hung up on me. I shook my head and set the phone back down on the counter. One look at Adam told me he was infinitely amused. "That's my mom for you. Always wanting everything to be just right and ending up cooking way too much," I quipped.

  "Is her cooking terrible?" he wondered.

  I walked over and plopped myself beside him. "No, worse. Her cooking is wonderful and I predict I'll gain ten pounds in the next week."

  Adam leaned against me and one of his arms slipped over my waist. "As I told you before, I happen to like a little meat on my women."

  I snorted. "So you're not afraid to meet either of my parents?"

  "Should I be? Your mom certainly sounds-well, energetic," he commented.

  "And my dad's a little nuts. He plays editor at the local newspaper by day, and tinkers in the old barn by night," I revealed.

  Adam raised an eyebrow. "Tinkers how?"

  I shrugged. "Oh, the usual. He tears things apart to figure out how they work and can't put them back together again. I think the last time I was there he was still working on an old tractor engine." I snorted as a memory surfaced. "One time he took apart my mom's antique radio and couldn't put it back together. It was a cold couple of days in the house when my mom refused to cook anything but brussel sprouts."

  "I don't see the problem."

  "My dad hates brussel sprouts."

  "Ah, that would be a problem."

  "Yeah, my mom's an expert at passive-aggressive behavior, but she doesn't get mad more than once a year. Of course, she didn't forgive him until he took the radio to the local repairman and got it fixed," I added.

  Adam chuckled. "I can't wait to meet them."

  "Good, because if we're going to be leaving we may as well leave now," I commented.

  I jumped to my feet and pulled him up by his hand. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled my back against his chest. His voice lowered to a sultry tone. "What's the hurry? We could perhaps have some more fun."

  I nodded down at the open internet page. "Because the weather says we're going to have another four inches of snow, so we'd better get out while we're still able."

  Adam sighed and reluctantly released me. "Very well, but we may have to cut short our visit to your parents' home. I do not wish to be away from your bed for so long."

  Chapter 2

  In a half hour the car was packed, the chimney fire was extinguished, and we left our home-away-from-home for the less-white areas at the feet of the mountain. It was a slow drive down even with the plow truck tracks, but eventually we hit the highway. There was one stop to be made at the general store, and the little bell chimed above us as we entered.

  Agnes looked up
from the counter and Abner looked over the top of his newspaper. She smiled at us, and even Abner managed a toothy grin. "Well, well, if it isn't the lovebirds. I don't see any rings on those fingers yet," she teased.

  "Not yet, but we wished to ask a favor of you, if it isn't too much trouble," Adam told her.

  Agnes waved her hand at him. "Nothing's too much trouble for some of our best customers. Now what were you wanting?"

  "Well, we will be staying at Chris' parents' home for a week and wish for you to watch over our cabin," he explained.

  A wide grin complimented the glitter in Agnes' eyes. "Well, well, taking the next step by visiting the folks. And what's this about you having the same cabin?"

  "It's a recent change," he admitted.

  "Well, you're not wasting any time getting to the ring part, but sure, we'll watch your cabin. Won't be too much work for us, what with Dad having a snow-cat to get up there even if it snowed twenty inches," she told us.

  "But we gotta be careful with that wolf running around," Abner spoke up.

  Agnes scowled at him. "You really believe what those Owens boys said about that wolf?"

  "Whatever happened to them after the anonymous tip led the police to their drug patch?" Adam spoke up.

  Agnes shrugged. "Oh, they and that creepy friend of theirs were arrested and gave this cock-and-bull story about a werewolf attacking their place. They even tried to say Chris here was way back there hiking with it."

  "The sheriff's office did come and question us, but we couldn't figure out how they imagined she was there except that perhaps their harassing her had sunk into their minds," Adam mused.

  Abner snorted. "That's be the only thing sunk into their thick skulls."

  "Well, they didn't stop talking about the werewolf, so I think they got some sort of an evaluation and might plead insanity," she finished.

  Abner scowled. "They should plead stupidity. Those damn boys probably just needed glasses, and what they saw was that wolf that was causing problems around that fancy place up there. Wolves can travel pretty far, ya know."

  "Yes, Dad, we know. Anyway, you said you'd be gone for a week?" Agnes asked us.

  "About that long," Adam agreed. "If we're there any longer we will contact you."

  "Well, you two young'uns have a good time and don't worry a thing about the cabin. We'll be sure to keep a close eye on it, won't we, Dad?" All eyes turned to the old man. He sat slumped in his chair with the paper in his lap and a little bit of drool coming from his mouth. "Dad!"

  He jerked awake and whipped his head to and fro. "What? Where?"

  Agnes signed and rolled her eyes. "We'll watch over their cabin for them, right?"

  Abner frowned and squinted his old eyes at us. "Are those two still here? Why haven't they gone yet? They're wasting daylight."

  "I must concur with Mr. Arbuckle. We should be going," Adam agreed.

  "See you in a week," I called to the strange familial pair as we left through the door.

  "Have fun, you two!" Agnes called back.

  Once safely in my car I burst into laughter. "Those two make a strange pair, don't they?" I asked Adam.

  He smiled. "Quite a unique pair, but Abner is correct, we should be on our way. Is it not a few hours drive to your childhood home?"

  "About two hours with good roads, so let's hope the weather holds," I told him.

  We drove onward down the highway that ran for a hundred winding miles to my old home. My thoughts drifted back to the green valley of my youth that sat fifty miles from the city that was my former working home. A forest of trees ringed the valley in a protective barrier of wilderness, and the old, two-story houses were nestled together in their sleepy little neighborhoods. Small shops supplied the locals with their food and other essentials, and on lazy Sundays I recalled memories of getting into the family car and driving to the ice cream parlor for a big sundae.

  "You seem distracted," Adam commented.

  I started and sheepishly smiled at him. "Just remembering days long past. I haven't been home in a while, and I wonder if things have changed."

  "Where do your parents reside in the town?" he wondered.

  "Oh, they don't live in the town, but about three miles outside on a small toy farm. My dad rents it out to a guy who actually knows what he's doing and they grow hay in the fields," I explained.

  "That must have been a pleasant place to grow up," he mused.

  I nodded my head. "Yeah, it was pretty nice. A little lonely, but I had chickens and sometimes a turkey to keep me company, though the turkey usually disappeared around Thanksgiving." I snorted at the memories. "My dad always said he escaped, and I believed him until I recognized a scar on the turkey one year. He always liked to protect me from-well, from the uglier side of life."

  "What will he think of me?" Adam wondered.

  "Can you hunt with a gun?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you eat meat?"

  "Very much so."

  "Do you like fishing?"

  "Often, if I get the chance."

  "How's your belching?"

  He blinked at me. "I can't tell if you jest with me or if your question is serious."

  "Oh, very serious. My dad prides himself on being a good belcher, and when my mom wasn't around he'd like to hold contests between us to see who could belch the longest and loudest."

  Adam grinned. "Who won?"

  I smiled and shrugged. "Sometimes it was a tie if I'd had a lot of pop that day, but usually it was my dad."

  "He sounds like an interesting fellow," Adam commented.

  "Quirky. He'd be eccentric, only he isn't rich," I quipped. Adam glanced out the window and I noticed his lips pressed in a firm line. I nudged him and gave him a bright smile. "He'll like you just fine. It's not like I'm bringing home a long-haired hippy, only a werewolf."

  The corners of Adam's lips twitched up in a smile. "We needn't tell them the details unless circumstances force us."

  "Yeah, I don't know how I'd explain that my boyfriend can become as beardly as a lumberjack in seconds," I quipped.

  He chuckled. "It sounds like a trait your father would admire."

  "Probably. He always wanted to live off the land, but the farthest we ever got was a garden my mom manages. She's got a pretty green thumb, and during the summer she takes the extra stuff in to sell at the farmer's market," I told him.

  "It's most interesting to hear of such normal beginnings for such an entrancing young woman," Adam teased.

  I grinned and shrugged. "I know, I don't know where my parents went wrong, but I turned out moderately normal. Anyway, to bring us to the whole reason we're going, do you really think it's a werewolf terrorizing my hometown? I mean, what are the odds?"

  "Slim to none, but we must remember Ashton," he reminded me.

  I cringed. "You just had to remind me. I just hope if this is a werewolf that they're not as psychotic as Ashton."

  "We shall see," he replied.

  The long drive was made all the longer by the snowy weather and road conditions. The two hours turned to four, and by the time we reached the crest of the hill that looked over the sleepy valley it was early-afternoon. In winter that meant only a few hours left of daylight. Even with the clock ticking I stopped the car at the crest and admired the view. The valley was a wide, snow-covered serpent that followed the bends and twists of a mountain river. The thick forests stood at the crest even with the car and was hundreds of miles deep. They ran far into the distance to near the tops of the snow-capped mountain peaks.

  In the valley lay my hometown. The houses were nestled in neat little rows with a few quirky alleys between the blocks, and one could tell the main street by its nearness to the river and the tiny rows of shops. On the other side of the river and beyond the town opposite where we sat was the farmlands that supplied part of the town's livelihood. The other part was logging, and a large mill stood in the far back of the valley with white, puffy smoke billowing from its steam chimneys. A few inches of sn
ow blanketed everything and a weak sun overhead caused the top of the crunchy snow to sparkle like stars.

  "Norman Rockwell could not have painted a better picture," Adam mused.

  I smiled. "It is pretty nice, isn't it? Anyway, my parents live on the other side of town, so let's get going."

  Chapter 3

  We drove down the road and through Main Street. The streets were bustling with activity as people bustled about for winter supplies and general shopping. We passed the familiar ice cream parlor, the drug store, the local jewelers, and even the old-fashioned general store much like the one managed by Agnes and her dad. Main Street was a short road, and the town wasn't very large, so that in a few minutes we left the boundaries of the town and drove into the country.

  Adam gripped the handle on his door and the glove compartment as the car drove off the smooth street and onto a pot-hole riddled country road. "Is it always so bad?" he wondered.

  "No, sometimes it's worse. They re-paved it ten years ago because somebody lost a tractor in one of the holes. Took two tow trucks to get it out," I told him.

  "I see. Then we are fortunate," he mused.

  "Don't say that yet. We're not at my parents' home," I reminded him.

  He chuckled. "I'm sure there won't be any problems with your parents."

  "Only with the werewolf," I returned.

  He looked ahead and pursed his lips. "Perhaps, but I hope my intuition is wrong."

  "And what exactly is your intuition telling you?" I asked him.

  The corners of his lips twitched up. "That either there is another werewolf prowling these magnificent woods, or that you work for a disreputable online news site."

  I snorted. "Cute. Well, you might be teasing me, but I'm hoping for the disreputable option." I leaned forward and glanced out the front windshield. "Looks like we're almost there. That's the turn." I nodded at a mailbox and a plowed gravel road.

  Adam scrutinized the box and raised an eyebrow. "Why does it have the name 'Rogers' on the box?"

  I sighed. "My dad's middle name is Buck, and he always wished his last name would have been that so he could have had a catch-phrase."

  Adam started back. "In all the excitement I haven't asked your parents' names."

  "Ralph and Anna," I told him.

  "Those are very nice names," he commented.

  "They work." I pulled onto the driveway and fifty yards away stood my old home.

  It was an old, two-story white farmhouse with a covered porch on the front. It sat at an angle so the house faced toward the driveway and a circular gravel barnyard. Opposite the house was a large, red gable barn with a pair of large doors and a few square windows on the sides. The old station wagon sat in the barnyard, and I parked my car behind the other vehicle.