“Don’t you know that’s where they think that pack lives that has been attacking people? They’re quite common around these parts—it was only a matter of time before something like this happened again. What were you thinking going down into the woods on your own?”
I nod politely without answering. I know that he’s right and agree with him. “I have no intentions of heading out like that again.” I saw a lot more than I wanted to tonight. It wasn’t all pretty. And it wasn’t all about wolves.
When I leave the hospital, I head for Grams’ grave. I can’t believe this happened to me. I tell her about my battle with the wolves. How I thought they would kill me, but they didn’t. I gathered my inner strength and used it against them. Standing up for myself like a freaking hero. Slaying them with my bare hands. I totally freaked out. I don’t know what happened to me. After I spilled my guts to my dead Grams, I felt relieved, knowing if she were here, she would hug me and soothe my fears far away. Just telling her lifted a weight from my shoulders. whether she heard me or not. I leave thinking that she did hear what I had said—and she cared.
When I get home, I tell Gracie all about what happened; the dark, the wolves, the blood, everything, including my unexplainable moment of superpower. She stares at my bandages, and she doesn’t hear me telling her that I took care of myself nor that I actually won the fight with the wolves. Gracie hears and sees only what she wants to, and she sees me scared and bruised, nearly killed by wild beasts.
Gracie smacks herself on the forehead. “Have you lost her mind? Do you realize how lucky you are to be alive? Girl, I love you, but this obsession has got to stop now, it’s going to get you killed.” Gracie’s hands go to her hips and she looks down at me with her meanest stare.
Later in the bedroom, I sit on the window seat and stare out into the darkness, reflecting on the evening. I felt like an animal back there. My BFF is right, I am lucky the wolves didn’t kill me. But in the long run, at least I know for sure the wolves are doing all the killing. Channing isn’t guilty. And whoever had him locked up wants to stop the investigation. I’ll set everyone straight tomorrow and get him freed. Then I’ll tell him what I have discovered. But how will he take it? Will he believe me or lash out again? Whatever, I don’t really care. I know the truth. And if Will Channing has any sense, he will believe me. He had better believe me.
Chapter 12
TALA
Back at the Inn, safe and sound, I lie down to go to sleep with wolves, figuratively, running around in my brain. I twist and turn, restlessly, moaning over and over, kicking the covers and gasping for relief—I’m turning!
In my mind, I’m in the woods in a wolves’ den—I want to run away. The earthy smell fills my nostrils. The dirt floor chills my bones, and the earthy smell fills my nostrils as I experience excruciating pain like I’ve never known. I lay on my side kicking and pawing the dirt as my bones dislocate. My muscle and sinew stretch beyond reason sending sharp pains through my body as my physical shape shifts into that of a wolf.
I endure every painful burst of expansion while my senses are flooded with terrifying thirst for blood and visions of bloodlust. I groan—howling in pain.
When the pain stops—I’m covered in fur from my wet nose down to my clawed paws.
I stand gazing around the cave as warm saliva streams down from my long, searing fangs. The other wolves are watching. I see them clearly now—I smell the scent of each of them—but I’m not afraid. The next thing I know, I’m running through the woods with a pack of wolves. The scent of the earth and forest fill my nose. The moon guides me as I charge down one path, and then another—feeling the cool night air ruffling my fur—feeling wild freedom.
After a while, I awaken at someone banging on the window. With the dream still fresh and vivid, I shake myself to free my mind. There’s more banging on the window. I jump from bed pulling back one of the curtains. When I realize who it is, I tiptoe downstairs to the door to let him in. “Channing. What the hell are you doing here? What happened with the police? Um…did you break out?”
Channing shakes his head. “No, of course not. Don’t be like that. I’ve been let out on bail; they didn’t have enough to hold me. I wouldn’t have come by this late, but I heard what happened to you and was worried as heck. Um…why do you look so wide eyed?”
“Just a dream…I’m fine. You shouldn’t have come here at this time of night. What if someone saw you? What if the mayor heard you? Are you crazy?”
Channing sees the scratches and bandages, and he gets upset about it, moving beside me on the couch. He reaches out to touch my face, but I flinch. He reaches for the bandaged arm, but I huff and turn away. He sighs, “You shouldn’t have been out there all alone looking for God knows what. You could have been killed. You should be more careful and leave the investigation up to the professionals.”
“What professionals? The ones who think that you have something to do with it?” I snap. “I only went there to see if there was something that they may have missed...anything that might turn the investigation in a new direction.” I snap back a tear. “I wanted to prove that it isn’t you who killed those girls.” Channing stares at me, and I catch myself boiling with emotion. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. Embarrassed, I stand and turn toward the window, immediately regretting what he saw.
Channing moves behind me, brushing back a strand of my hair. His fingertips graze my skin and they send tingly shock waves down my spine. He leans in, breathing my scent, his face mere inches from my ear. My breathing hitches, and in a moment of weakness, I cave to my instincts- my desire. I turn to face him, and at that second, Channing regains control and quickly spins around, leaving the room. I am left standing alone, breathless—but I'm really frustrated with myself for almost giving in.
The next day at work, a group of people are picketing because Channing, a supposed murderer has been allowed to continue to work at the station. When will people come to their senses and realize—he’s trying to find the real killer? The protesters have surrounded the station. Some of them are squatting at the front door to keep people from entering. The officers want to stop the protest and send the people home, but the Chief tells them to stand down. “Those are our friends and neighbors outside. We can’t arrest all of them. They’re just concerned about the killings. Give them some time to work it out of their systems.”
The protests continue. Anyone who tries to enter becomes harassed before they walk through the door. All the protesters are chanting and screaming, accusing the officers of favoritism, and outright insulting the Chief. The Chief is a stout middle-aged man with a normal build. He has well-groomed dark hair and always dresses well, wearing dark suits. He never steps from his office except to come in or leave—even his lunch is hand delivered. When he hears the ruckus outside, he strides from his office and tries to talk the crowd down with no results. When the other officers prepare to use teargas bombs the Chief holds them back. But then, the protesters take a new turn and become violent. They shove people down, throw rocks, and break windows. Now the Chief has no choice—he sends armed officers out to disperse the crowd one way or another.
I try talking to the Chief about the wolves that attacked me, but we’ve never been on friendly speaking terms. The Chief keeps to himself in that office of his and never socializes. I gulp back my fears and take a chance. When I mention the kill site in the field the Chief jumps down my throat.
“What the hell were you doing out there alone? There’s something evil in the woods. Weren’t you told to stay off the case? You’re not an officer of the law—you’re a receptionist. Now, all you’ve managed to do is contaminate the evidence! I want you out of here today! Go home and get your head straight and give me some peace!”
I feel blood rush to my cheeks. I’m so upset, I could breathe fire. I turn away red faced and head back to my desk to gather my belongings. The Chief wants me off the case too—so, that’s where Channing got his orders to silence me from. The Chief wants me g
one. Killers are running loose...a blood-hungry pack of wolves that is, and no one will do anything to stop them. Those wolves are going to attack again, but neither the Chief nor Channing will listen to reason. Go home—give them some peace today? Why doesn’t anyone listen to me? I clench my jaw and storm out the door. I don’t even remember starting the bike, but I end up in my room, staring out the window. First Channing, and now the Chief ordering me to stay out of the case—with this Fletcher character accusing a fellow officer. I’m confused as hell by their actions, and I’m trying to make sense of it all.
The other officers have known Channing for years, and have worked with him on the case, but they don’t even attempt to defend him. And even though he’s been released for lack of evidence they act fearful around him—like they think he really is the killer. Where did they get that information? And didn’t they even do a little research first? How screwed up can they get? And now, the Chief is riding my back to stay off the case.
I’m exhausted from worrying about Channing and that rogue bloodthirsty wolf pack. I grab a bite to eat and crash. “Wake up sleepy head. Why home so early?” It’s Gracie.
“No reason,” I say pushing myself up. “Why do you ask?”
By now, Gracie has placed her books on the desk in her room. She sits beside me with her hands in her lap, and smiles, “Well, if I had known you were taking the day off, I would have asked you to drop by the campus. We need volunteers to help prepare for the spring fling.”
“Oh, Gracie, do I look like I’d be any help to anyone right now? I don’t want to help with the school events when I’m no longer a student.”
Gracie grins. “I tried to get you to register. You could finish the semester at least. Maybe later when you get your mind straight, you could register for college. And we could study and loaf around like old times. I’m in no hurry. I could help you get ready. We could swing by now,” she insists.
I stretch and let myself fall back onto the couch. “No thanks, my GED is good enough for me.” I lean forward holding my head. “Headache. I think it may have been your mom’s vodka.”
Gracie smacks her head. “You mean to tell me you drank it all?”
“What will I tell her when she accuses me?” My friend scurries off to her room, changes clothes, grabs a tote and heads out the door.
I’m going to have to stop lying, it’s becoming way too easy. But what can I do when someone will not take no for an answer?
When Gracie leaves, I get dressed and take a drive. What a better time to sneak off and be on my own enough to unscramble the mystery of the murders? The drive takes me back to the nightclub where I ask questions and scout around the area, checking out the woods. The bugs are louder than usual, masking the night with a veil of noise that cloaks the other sounds of the forest. The wolves always end up coming from and disappearing into the same wooded areas. Which I know isn’t that amazing, but the mountain range surrounding the town is a big one, reaching into several county jurisdictions. Maybe that has something to do with the murders or maybe it doesn’t. While I’m looking around, the sun goes down, so I turn toward town. This time preferring to be safe at home before dark.
I return to the station to help Channing who has been put on clean up detail for the mess from the protest. “You don’t have to do this.” He smiles. I know that’s the case, but I want to help. I feel a strange attachment to him. I know that everyone is wrong about him. Channing is a smart, caring guy—he would never hurt anyone.
I shrug. “It’s okay. I don’t have anything better to do this evening.”
Channing follows me home after work in his patrol car. It’s misting rain and all the lights are out at the inn, but the moon follows our shadows up the steps to the porch. I sit on the swing and Channing follows, lying his arm across the back of the swing. I bring up the subject of the protest, but Channing interrupts.
“I’m not worried about the protesters. They’re just a few worried citizens trying to be heard. What I want to know is, why did you go out to the kill site alone? I know about the wolves. I’ve been trying to stop them on my own, but I didn’t want you involved. You could have been killed!”
He gently shoves my hair back and that’s when I notice the moonlight on Channing’s face. His eyes are lit up and seem to sparkle, but not in a good way, deviously. I heave a breath, pulling away. “I just wanted to help you get out of this predicament. No one else seems to care. No one.”
Channing interrupts again, “No, no, no, don’t do that. Believe me when I say, I can take care of myself.” He smiles down at me like I’m a piece of candy. Then he pushes a strand of hair from my cheek, behind my ear. “Promise you won’t try anything like that again.”
I want to say, ‘bite me,’ but he looks so worried. I nod, reluctantly. Channing leans closer and kisses me on the cheek. I grin up at him, the moon glowing from his eyes. His face shines with warmth—and for a moment, my heart stops beating. I catch my breath in surprise. It’s as if I’m seeing him for the first time. “Do you want to come in?” I say walking toward the door.
He stands. “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?” he asks rising an eyebrow. His lips curl up into a sly smile.
Feeling my cheeks turn red, I purse my lips and lift my chin. “I just thought we could talk,” I say trying to be serious. Channing drops his flirty attitude and comes inside. I grab some drinks and chips from the kitchen, and we sneak up to my room.
After closing the door, we make ourselves comfortable on the window seat. Channing looks out the window as if seeing past the trees and through the darkness. “What are you thinking?” I ask to get the conversation going.
“Oh, nothing…and everything.” He lowers his head and sighs.
I gulp a drink and lean in smiling. “Well, you’re going to have to explain that.” Channing stares into my eyes. “I’ve never met anyone like you, and I want you to know why I go out of my way to protect you.”
I hug my knees smiling. “I’m listening.”
“Be serious. My grandfather raised me and protected me from the danger that lives in Witherfell—danger that most of the townsfolk wouldn’t ever believe.”
“Ah Channing, I know about the wolves that wander through the woods.”
Channing’s face grows serious. “No, it’s not just that, there’s weird people here too—people that are capable of anything. And you…you won’t stay away from trouble.”
“Ha! I know almost everyone in Witherfell,” I say turning the focus back to him. “The only person I know nothing about is you.”
Channing smiles. “I’m an open book. I was raised to believe that family and tradition come first—sort of like the saying, ‘blood is thicker than water.’”
“Didn’t you even know your folks?”
“Just what Grandfather told me. Mom died when I was born and Dad…Grandfather refused to talk about, him. I assume he’s dead.”
I lay my hand on his feeling bad for him. “Sorry.”
Later, I tell Channing about what happened to me at the wolf attack. How I became empowered and morphed into an out of control freak.
He listens until I finish explaining what happened. I’m waiting for him to show some kind of reaction, get upset or something. Channing sits there with a frown on his face.
Then he shrugs it off. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You were frightened so everything probably just seemed worse than it really was. You freaked and made a lot of noise and cracked a few wolves in the head. Good for you. The big bad wolves got scared and left. End of story.”
There’s something too nonchalant about Channing’s reaction to my story—he’s too calm. I don’t buy his exclamation of what happened to me, but I’m sleepy so I nod for now. I wanted to tell him about the dream I had had, but not now. He’d probably laugh and tell me I am paranoid. I can’t blame him for doubting me—I’m confused. So, with his warm body lying next to mine—close enough to touch, I give in to sleep.
Nothing happens.
Channing seems happy that I am upset about the mob and not out running through the woods alone. That’s all good.
If I can keep him happy, I’ll have even more time to snoop around without him worrying about me. This may work out good for a change—without someone looking over my shoulder. That’s what I’m talking about.
Chapter 13
TALA
The next morning, we wake up in bed together. When our eyes meet, we both smile. I feel safe and a bit excited. His pale-blue eyes twinkle in the morning light. He smiles and my eyes are drawn like magnets to his dimples. His shining face is so near I can almost taste his lips. I turn my head and sit up in bed. Channing looks at his cell phone.
“What time is it?” I ask.
We hear someone in the hall. “Shhh, not so loud, it’s Gracie’s mom,” I whisper, grinning sheepishly. We wiggle out of bed and gather our things.
After we hear the mayor leave, we go downstairs and my partner makes me breakfast, his specialty, steak and eggs. I watch in fascination as he throws two steaks into a skillet. For a second, I think I see him actually lick his fingers. “What did you just do?” I ask, masking my grin.
“What?” Channing says giving me that mischievous look of his. I drop the subject thinking that it’s my imagination. Why would he be licking blood for God’s sake? He flops one of the steaks on his plate half raw. “How well done do you like yours?”
“Yours looks perfect to me,” I say.
He’s stirring eggs when Gracie comes down. She gasps and can’t hide her surprise at seeing Channing in the kitchen. She winks at me. “Well, looks like someone likes someone,” she smirks in her teasing way.
I tilt my head. “We’re just friends.”
The Shadow Moon: Wolf Awakenings Page 7
