Luna Proxy #3 (Werewolf / Shifter Romance)

by Flynn, Mac

  I flung open the door and paused to glance at him over my shoulder. "To get a little time to think."

  I stepped out into the mid-morning weather. The drizzle dampened my hair, but didn't soak the blanket that was wrapped around me. I trudged to the outhouse and clothed myself.

  "Damn that old woman. . ." I muttered as I slipped on my shirt. "Is she trying to piss me off?"

  A knock on the door startled me. "Leila? Breakfast is ready," Vincent called to me.

  "Can't I get five minutes to myself?" I snapped.

  "Sorry. . ."

  My face fell. "I told you-"

  "It's breakfast. Come and get it, or starve," he told me.

  His footsteps retreated away from the outhouse. I pursed my lips. Maybe the apologetic Vincent was better than the fake assertive one.

  A minute later and I was back in the cabin. Another concoction boiled over the fire. Vincent had already cleaned the bowls. I asked a silent prayer that my stomach was more powerful than a werewolf before we took our seats in front of the crackling fire.

  That morning's food was a brown broth of sour herbs. There wasn't even the benefit of the cubes of mystery meat. I sipped on the spoonful and shuddered.

  "What do you think?" Glenna asked us.

  "It's-um, great," Vincent replied. His lies were as bad as his clothing style.

  Glenna beamed and turned her attention to me. "And what do you think?"

  "It's one of a kind," I commented. Or so I hoped.

  Glenna nodded. "As it should be. Many of these herbs grow only on this mountain. That's one of the reasons why I live here."

  "Do many people pass through here?" I asked her.

  She shook her head. "No, not many. Maybe once every few months."

  I nodded at Vincent. "Do you remember him coming through here six months back?"

  Glenna narrowed her eyes and studied Vincent. "Can't say that I do, and I would remember a handsome face like that."

  Vincent blushed and stared down at his bowl in his hand.

  "Maybe he walked past here without you knowing?" I suggested.

  Glenna rubbed her chin and furrowed her brow. "Perhaps. If he could place the date when he passed through then I might know something more."

  Vincent cringed. "I-"

  "It was a while ago, so he's not sure," I answered.

  Glenna raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Well-" she stood and groaned. "Let's clean up these dishes and start the work."

  I frowned. "What work?"

  She jerked her head towards the pot over the fire. "You think those herbs uproot themselves and jump into the pot? I've fed you, now I need help gathering some more. And you might be wanting some more for when you leave."

  Vincent smiled. "That'd be-"

  "We're fine," I interrupted.

  He turned to me and frowned. "We don't have much food left."

  I glanced at the makeshift bag that held our three cans of beans. The taste of the soup lingered in my mouth like a bad hangover. I hung my head and sighed. "All right. We'll help you pick herbs."

  "I don't need him, only you," Glenna told us.

  "Why not him?" I questioned her.

  Glenna shuffled over to the foot of her bed and picked up her basket. "You may think me strange, but I believe herbs are particular about who picks them, and those I pick prefer a woman."

  Strange didn't begin to cover it. "Fine, I'll go," I agreed as I stood.

  Vincent, too, rose to his feet. "You can have my coat if you want," he offered.

  I shook my head. "I'll be fine. The rain's almost stopped. Maybe we'll be able to leave today."

  "Oh, not today," Glenna spoke up. She stood beside the open door and stretched her hand outside. The droplets pattered against her palm. "The rain is a harbinger of the coming winter. It won't quit until late tonight." She returned her attention to us and smiled. "But let's get going. Those herbs won't pick themselves."

  CHAPTER 5

  I grudgingly followed Glenna outside. She led me around the house and to the rear. There was a heavy-treaded path that led into the thick trees. She paused at the mouth of the trail and turned to me.

  I leaned to one side and looked past her at the trail. "Where are we-ooph." Glenna had stuffed the basket into my gut.

  "You carry the basket. It'll be too heavy for me to carry back," she told me.

  I frowned. "So why don't you carry it now?"

  "You're younger than I am, so carry it," she commanded.

  Glenna turned away and shuffled down the path. I glanced over my shoulder. There were no windows on this side of the cabin, but I could imagine Vincent inside by the fire.

  "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. . ." I whispered.

  "Are you coming or not?" Glenna snapped.

  I rolled my eyes. "I'm coming."

  Glenna led me a half a mile down the path until the way opened to a large meadow. A faint fog floated above the ground and mixed with the drizzling rain. Wildflowers and wild grass sprang from the brown earth and reached towards the sky. A few rotted trunks sat in random places, testaments to lives long lived and long ruined.

  Glenna's screeching voice intruded on my perusal. "Come along. You dawdle like an old woman." She tilted back her head and laughed. The sound echoed across the lonely space.

  We moved over to one of the trunks. Glenna stooped and pointed at a line of mushrooms that grew down the side of the rotten wood.

  "You can pick these. Nothing here will kill you," she instructed me.

  I frowned. "What will kill me?"

  She grinned. "Nothing if you stay to the trunk. However-" she turned to the vast expanse of field around us. Her eyes swept over the flowers and grass. "There are toadstools and grass here that would poison you, or worse."

  "What could be worse than poison?" I asked her.

  "I'll gather those mixed with the deadly varieties, and nothing will happen to you and your servant," she assured me.

  My eyes narrowed. "He's not my servant."

  Glenna chuckled. "Then you are not his mistress, and I am one of those toadstools you're about to pick."

  I counted to ten and took a deep breath. "All right, I'll bite. What makes you think he's my servant?"

  She reached up and tapped my temple. "It's all in the mind. You have confidence in yourself, while he has nothing but doubt." It was her turn to scrutinized me. "And why doesn't he have confidence? Are his memories so lost that he doesn't remember who, or what, he is?"

  I started back and my eyes widened. "What do you mean 'what he is?'"

  "It's in his eyes." She tapped her temple close to her eyes. "I can see he was once a master, but no more. Now he follows, both you and the path you turned off to find shelter in the cave."

  I relaxed. "He has lost some of his memory," I admitted.

  She raised an eyebrow. "Only some? What a pity. I can retrieve all, but 'some' is a more difficult matter."

  I frowned. "What do you mean you can retrieve his memories?"

  She turned and faced the field. "There is a herb in this field, one that is very special to men such as him. It can retrieve their deepest memories."

  "I've never heard of a herb that did that. What's it called?" I questioned her.

  Her eyes flickered to me. "It is called the Proxy Plant. You've never heard of it because it is incredibly rare. I know of only a few other spots in the world where it grows."

  "How does it revive memories?" I persisted.

  "The person eats a part of the plant and rests for a night. When they awake their mind is rested and their memories have returned," she explained.

  Glenna waved her hand at me and shuffled away from the stump. "We are only getting wetter by this talking. If you don't want to try it than gather the mushrooms and I will gather the herbs." She stooped and pulled a clump of grass.

  I bit my lower lip. "Is. . .is this Proxy Plant dangerous?"

  Glenna paused in her gathering and looked over her shoulder. A grin graced her lips. "If yo
u are wondering if it harms him, you don't have anything to fear. He may have some discomfort, but it never lasts very long."

  My eyes swept the field. "Where is it?"

  "I will fetch some. Gather the mushrooms or we will be here all day," she commanded.

  She shuffled into the forest and disappeared into the shadows of the close-set trees. I plucked a few of the mushrooms, but my attention always returned to where the old woman disappeared.

  The basket was nearly full and the morning nearly vanished when Glenna emerged from the darkness. Clasped in one hand was a bundle of dry grass. She shuffled over to me and set the tied bundle atop the mushrooms.

  "That should be enough for two meals, should the first not be strong enough," she told me.

  "And this isn't dangerous for anyone to eat?" I asked her.

  She nodded. "Very safe. It is quite bitter, but bitterness hardens the soul. However-" she eyed me, "-it would be best not to tell him the ingredient to tonight's soup. He may instinctively refuse to eat any of the food, and his memory might be lost forever."

  I glanced down at the bundle. Here was my chance to know the full truth, and only a short distance from my home. Vincent would be free to live his life elsewhere with his memories, and we'd never see each other again.

  I felt something stab my heart. Perhaps it was the old woman's cooking. My eyes flickered up to Glenna's expectant face.

  "All right, we won't tell him," I agreed.

  She smiled and turned her attention to the grass. "Good. Now that that's settled you'll finish those mushrooms and I'll pluck the grass, and we'll go home."

  Glenna resumed her work. I plucked the mushrooms, but cast weary glances at the Proxy Plant.

  We worked as the morning drizzled to a close. My hand reached out for the last mushroom when a noise caught my attention.

  A long, low howl echoed from the woods all around us. I snapped my head up and looked around. Nothing sprang from the trees, but another howl joined the first one.

  "What is that?" I asked Glenna.

  She shrugged. "Probably just a wolf."

  "It doesn't quite sound like a wolf," I insisted.

  She raised her head and paused. "I don't hear anything."

  There was another howl. Glenna winced. That one sounded closer, and came from the direction of the cabin.

  My eyes widened and the blood in my veins ran cold. A single hoarse word slipped from my lips. "Vincent."

  I scrambled to my feet and rushed towards the path.

  "The basket!" Glenna yelled behind me. "You forgot my basket! It's too heavy for me!"

  I sprinted across the meadow and into the thick tress. My heart pounded in my chest as my feet pounded down the trail. Possible scenarios flew through my mind.

  A shadow leapt from the brush on my right. I saw large claws stretch out to grab me. I twisted to avoid the attack. My feet slipped on the muddy ground, and I fell onto my side. The wind was knocked out of me. The shadow flew over and dove into the brush on the other side.

  A sharp, high-pitched whistle cut through the air. There came the sound of something like crashing through brush. The noise faded into the distance.

  I raised my head and gasped. "Vincent?" I whispered. I struggled to stand and clutched my arm in my other hand. My arm was bruised, but not broken. "Vincent!"

  Footsteps pounded up the path. Vincent appeared from the direction of the cabin. He sprinted up to me and grasped my arms. His eyes searched me and fell on my arm. A dark expression passed over his face. His words were low and dangerous.

  "Who did this to you?" he asked me.

  I looked from Vincent to where the creature had gone. The howling had stopped. I shook my head. "I. . .I don't know."

  Glenna stomped down the trail. She leaned to one side and glared at us. Clasped in both hands and leaning against her hip was the basket.

  "Fine thing to leave me with this heavy basket! And all to chase a stupid wolf!" she snapped at me.

  "A wolf?" Vincent spoke up.

  I nodded. "Yeah. I thought it might cut us off from the cabin, so I ran."

  Glenna dropped the basket at our feet and narrowed her eyes at me. "What a foolish thing to do. Did you even see the creature?"

  I shook my head. "No. I guess it was just my imagination."

  Glenna relaxed and sighed. "Well, let's get these herbs inside before the rain spoils them."

  "And we start to grow ferns," Vincent agreed.

  Vincent scooped up the basket and we made our way back to the cabin. I positioned myself at the rear and paused. My eyes fell on the place where I'd last seen the creature.

  Whatever it wasn't, it wasn't just a wolf.

  CHAPTER 6

  The rest of the day was a long, slow descent into boredom. The herbs were washed and set aside on a shelf in the 'kitchen,' and the fire was stoked by an endless supply earned by Vincent's sweat and toil. The afternoon passed away and the storm lingered on this dismal mountain. Night came early, and at four Glenna shuffled over to the pot in the hearth.

  "I'm hungry. We'll make dinner now," she announced.

  "But isn't it a little early?" Vincent protested.

  She stoked the coals with the fire stick and moved over to the shelf of herbs. I noticed she grabbed the bundle of Proxy Plant.

  "If you get hungry before sleep I'll make sure there'll be plenty more for ya," she assured him. She tossed half the bundle into a bowl and mixed it with other herbs. "And I expect this will be the best soup you've ever tasted. Nice and bitter with a little bit of sweetness."

  He cringed, but managed a shaky smile. "I'm sure it'll be delicious." He glanced at me. "What do you think, Leila?"

  "I think I need to go on a diet," I quipped.

  Glenna glared at me. "Then you can starve the fat off your belly."

  My eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me fat?"

  Vincent stepped between us and held up his palms, each to one of us. "Ladies, please. There's no need to fight."

  "I'm calling you a whale," Glenna snapped.

  I stood from my seating spot in front of the fire. "That's fine because your food isn't fit for animals!"

  "Come on, it's not that bad," Vincent argued. "Besides, we've gotten this far without trouble. I'm sure the weather will break tomorrow and we can leave."

  "More of your feelings?" I guessed.

  He sheepishly grinned at me. "Something like that."

  Glenna turned her back on us and prepared the soup. I seated myself in my spot on the floor and glared at her back. The soup was prepared and poured into our bowls. Her latest attempt at ruining our taste buds was a brackish concoction not unlike soupy tar. I spooned the thick broth into my utensil and studied the crime against cooking. It appeared slightly edible.

  My eyes flickered above the spoon to Vincent who sat opposite me. He, too, hesitated to the participate in this episode of poisoning. Unfortunately, I was curious to see what effects this Proxy Plant would have on him.

  I champed down on my spoon. The soup slipped over my tongue and down my throat. The flavor was bitter with a hint of sweet lemon. I choked down the spoonful and smiled at Vincent.

  "Not too-" I paused to choke on the flavor. "Not too bad."

  Vincent looked doubtfully between my face and his bowl. He sighed and shrugged. A small smile slipped onto his lips. "Why not?"

  He took a spoonful and partook of the bountiful feast. Glenna had filled the whole of the pot with the 'food.' Vincent's face scrunched up, and he had trouble swallowing. A lump slid down his throat and he shuddered.

  "D-delicious," he commented.

  Glenna swallowed a few spoonfuls and smiled. "Of course it is."

  The meal was finished, and Vincent and I nearly so by the food. The bowls were put away, and Glenna stoked the fire. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

  "Carrying that basket has tired me out, and perhaps you two should get some sleep, too," she suggested. "I'm sure you'll want to leave as early as you can."


  "That would be a good idea," Vincent agreed.

  "I think I'll stay up a little while longer," I informed them.

  Glenna frowned. "Sleep is best for a healthy body and mind."

  "Both of mine are perfectly fine, but I'd like to watch the fire a little longer," I insisted.

  She shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  "I can stay up with you," Vincent offered.

  I smiled and shook my head. "It's fine. I'd like some time alone to myself."

  Vincent's face fell. "All right. . ."

  My two companions slipped into their beds. Fire licked at the wood and consumed the fibers one at a time. The bitter taste of stew in my mouth reminded me of my deception, and my mind scolded me.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Vincent. He faced me, but his eyes were closed and his breathing was even. He'd fallen asleep in a few moments.

  "He could sleep through a tornado. . ." I murmured.

  He rolled over onto his back. A small smile slipped onto his lips. "Leila. . ."

  I frowned. He had to rub salt into my self-wound caused by my betrayal. Or was it a betrayal? Therein lay my dilemma.

  "He'll be happier with his memories. . ." I whispered.

  That's the lie I kept repeating over and over again in my head, but I couldn't discard the chance that he'd forgotten his memories on purpose. Perhaps what he wished to forget was too terrible to live with. Self-preservation was a powerful motivator, and there was no telling to what lengths the mind and body would go to save themselves.

  I leaned my back against the side of the hearth. The serene expression on his face weakened my resolve to stay awake. I wanted to be there when he awoke to his resurrected memories, if what the old woman said was true.

  My eyelids grew heavy. The cabin was warm and quiet. The heated stones behind me soothed me into an unwilling slumber.

  "Aah!"

  The cry of pain awoke me from a deep sleep. There was a great anguish in that single syllable that a thousand words couldn't describe. My eyes flew open and fell on Vincent. He writhed and rolled atop his bed. The covers over him were discarded in a heap on the floor beside him.

  "Vincent!" I cried out.