The Howliday Inn

by Zoey Kane

  She arched a dark brow. “Okay. Thank you, Stewart. I’ll tell my mom.” She hung up and relayed the conversation to her mom.

  “Noooo kidding.” Zoey’s red lips curled up. “Sweetie, we should go see if we can listen in on that meeting.”

  Claire raised her eyebrows, hesitating. Zoey nodded her head with narrowed eyes for verification that that was what they needed to do.

  “Oh, man,” Claire acknowledged. “Here it goes.”

  *

  The mom-and-daughter duo made sure to dress inconspicuously. It would be embarrassing to get caught, not to forget quite possibly dangerous. They wore all black, and Zoey even wrapped her sequined scarf carefully around her strawberry-blond hair.

  The two decided to go pick up the horses and ride them in, rather than try to park their noticeable red car covertly. They mounted on the other side of Jack’s stables, out of sight, where the car was parked.

  Zoey remarked, “I guess I’m getting a little creeped out. I want to hide everything. The less people know and see, the better off we’ll be.”

  “No argument there, Mom.”

  Zoey had never liked camping, because the wild was unpredictable, with scary, awful things that wanted to harm you—from skunks to mountain lions, to spiders and all manner of biting things, which included, lately, werewolves. She kept her eyes peeled. Oddly, there were no wolves howling.

  The horses trotted steadily along the compacted dirt of the far side of the village, coming in from Jack’s. The breeze had softened to a whisper of wind, the scent of fresh dirt and pine more pungent in the night air. When the two got close enough to be noticed on horseback, they dismounted and tied the horses securely out of sight. Lance and Ivan were content to nibble at the grasses they could reach.

  Since they were dressed in black, the Kanes could meld with the people heading to the church. Still, they made sure they kept their careful distance.

  A man from behind caught up and said as he passed by, “The meeting is going to be very important tonight.”

  Zoey replied, “Owoooo.”

  He laughed, “You got it, sister!”

  As the cultists were entering the church, some pausing to talk for a moment with each other on the steps, the duo veered to the right of the building. They waited for the last of them to eventually enter.

  The Kanes tried hard to hear what was being said, moving to a couple of different cross leaden-paned windows. “We’re not getting the best results,” complained Claire.

  “Come over to this window,” said Zoey. “There’s a pane missing up on that fourth row. We’ll have to stand on the wide window sill out here to reach it, but there’s room for both of us. Come on, give me a steadying hand up.”

  Claire was assisting her mom with a strong arm and then a push of her rump, when they heard a nearby voice. “What are you doing here?” A flashlight spot-lit the scene. The Kanes were like a couple of raccoons frozen in motion, with surprised wide stares, as if caught in the act of getting through a window to steal from the kitchen. He was just a silhouette in the backlight of the moon, with hair just past his chin in waves.

  “Help me down, Claire?” asked Zoey, humiliated, then said to the man, “Would you believe we are window washers?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Shape shifters?”

  “What kind?” he asked, as if that made any difference.

  “We’re really bears drawn to the light, looking for honey… or at least peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

  “Maybe.” The back-glow of the man’s flashlight faintly revealed a kind of cute, amused grin. “Wait… wait a minute… Remove your scarf a moment, please.”

  Zoey did, and her long strawberry-blond hair fell across her shoulders.

  The man said to the other, “And you must be Claire.”

  “Yes,” she said and tried her mother’s humor. “Are you going to eat us?”

  “Not today. Follow me, please.”

  The ladies looked at each other with question. They decided to follow him a little to see what was up. Zoey had her purse on her, which meant her steely little friend was ready for any action.

  The lupine man led them up the church’s tall steps to the front door, where he paused to say, “Of course, we wanted to know who the daredevil women were who accused one of us of being antisocial and… good looking. And then there was the impressive stunt driving.” He added, “We sometimes use the guest computer at the Moonshadow Inn’s lobby. I found out you two are celebrity detectives, among other notable things. There’s a mule named Roy who misses you.” He opened the large door with a creak, announcing their entrance.

  As the three of them entered the church, heads turned. All eyes were on them. “Come along,” their escort said over his shoulder. He took them to the very front of the meeting.

  Oh, great, Zoey thought. More humiliation! Being told off. Or worse, being eaten like Claire presumed.

  Claire was thinking about doing business. Maybe she could offer to buy them something they might like… or, rather, lick?

  They stepped up onto the stage. The place was lit by lanterns, so it wasn’t very bright. Faces didn’t seem amused; in fact, they were suspicious. One lady actually rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms hard. She was the mother of twins who had basically told the Kanes to scram.

  “Brothers and sisters,” started the man who'd escorted them inside. “We have been accused by locals outside Rottenwood of murdering Mr. Martin from the inn. We know for sure none of us in attendance today would do that. It either has to be an animal who has taken to killing humans, or one of us has gone rogue.”

  The cultists turned, briefly scanning their own, searching for who may be missing.

  “I have a sudden announcement that may make a few of you uncomfortable, or downright mad.” He made eye contact with the blonde, then resumed. “I know we’re a community who treasures privacy. This is why we live off the grid and have taken residence here in the mountains, far, far away from civilization. I get it. Civilization hasn’t been kind to us. Today’s society opines with their lips, but not with their hearts, that they accept diversity. That they accept people who are different. They put a man on a cover of a magazine because he’s become a woman! Hah! We know there ain’t no power greater than a full moon, and not even she can make that kind of mysterious transformation of a human. But try asking these magazine editors to put one of us on their covers—and I don’t mean the National Inquirer—and we get ridiculed. It’s a strange state of hypocrisy our nation lives in.”

  Zoey’s mind wandered, noting that he was good-looking for being a cultist. Mature, nice physique, had a head of full brown hair parted loosely in the middle. She suddenly imagined the moon preacher posing for GQ, midshift, wearing boxer shorts and a toothy grin. Ain’t gonna work, she agreed with an internal giggle.

  “What’s the announcement, Lowe?” the blonde called out to him.

  Lowe rubbed at his chin’s scruff. “I’m getting to it. Okay, I’ll just say it. I spoke with quite a few of you today who agree we should get these ladies on our side, hire them to find the guilty, what or whoever it is. Because,” he raised a hand for emphasis, “we need them.”

  “We don’t need them!” a heavyweight man called out.

  Zoey and Claire wished they could speak, mind to mind, with each other. They hadn't been told beforehand of this proposition. And of course, neither of them needed the money.

  “Now listen to me…” Lowe brought a hand up, suggesting to them to tamper down. “We DO need them, if they would be so kind to agree to help us. The police are going to come through here investigating by the book. We may become a spectacle for the news and magazines. It would be better to have someone working for us not against us who can get to the bottom of this murder as fast as possible. These two women can do it!”

  There was mumbling among them at that moment.

  Claire noticed a group of obvious family members, all with similar features: razor-edged cheekb
ones and deep-set eyes. They were very pale in their appearance, even to their cornflower hair, but what was most unsettling was how very little fat they had on their bones, which made their lips look like hard lines. Their lack of expression emanated a real creep factor. Claire covertly gave a little elbow to her mom and looked their direction, and Zoey picked up on it with a small nod.

  After a few minutes of people discussing in low voices, leaning across each other and over the back of the pews, they began a sequence of nods.

  "I take it you have reached your decision,” said Lowe. “Raise your hand if you agree that we should let these ladies into our society in exchange for their help.”

  All hands went up except for those of the one pale, bony family.

  “The hands in agreement are of the majority,” said Lowe. “Now, I will ask the Kanes for their help.” He said that with a grin, because of the sudden, unusual circumstance of their being at this special meeting. Turning to them, he asked, “Will you?”

  Zoey didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  Then everyone waited for what Claire, who needed a moment to think, had to say.

  “They need us, Claire,” Zoey said quietly.

  “Yes!” she said, looking uncertain.

  A loud angry voice boomed from the back. It was the oldest man of the pale family. “We ain’t haven it! We’ve put up with you imitators fer decades. Enough! Count the Stiles family out!” They all stood up together and filed out the door.

  “They are so snooty!” Lowe affirmed. There was some quiet chuckling throughout.

  “One question,” Zoey said. “You all are werewolves?”

  “Yes,” said the pastor of the moon, echoed by other affirmations—“Absolutely,” “You got that straight,”—and a couple of howls.

  “Okay, then.” Actually, Zoey had been afraid the assumption may offend someone, but she was now feeling confident.

  The room became a motion of bodies as all began standing to meander out.

  “Wait!” Lowe called. “One more point of business. The reason we actually came here to meet in the first place!”

  They all stopped and gave attention to the speaker.

  “Are we all in agreement that everyone needs to put in the man hours to do some Rottenwood renovations?” He continued, “Because we’ve only started. To get anything really done, we need more of a community effort. It’s getting hazardous to go into some of these structures. It would be good for us to have full use of all the buildings along the main street. It’s our village; let’s take pride in it.”

  “It might bring more tourists,” a man said with warning.

  There were audible grumbles over that.

  Another yelled across the way, “It might bring money to us.”

  The hands began to raise.

  “It’s unanimous, then! Passed!”

  Lowe turned his attention to the Kanes. “So, ladies, there are treats now in the Sunday school room of this old church.”

  “You can pay us in jelly sandwiches later,” Zoey said. “We should get going. But I will ask you one thing, as our investigation goes on from here. We’ll want to know more about the Stiles, the ones who left the meeting in a huff. What’s their relation to Stiles Logging?”

  “We can meet on that over lunch,” he suggested.

  “Let us know,” Zoey said. “We’re pretty much open, as far as time goes, but we'd better get the horses back to Jack’s.”

  “Okay, count on it.” He shook their hands, nice and strong.

  His grin was darling. Zoey tried to imagine how it would look with wereteeth. That was if there was such a thing. She always left room for the unexplained.

  Riding their horses beside the boardwalk, the Kanes both spotted a figure standing inside a doorway across the street. The moon lit his face just enough to see it was that same guy Claire thought she saw over by the leaning pine at Jack’s.

  “We didn’t see you at the meeting,” Zoey remarked, trying to encourage an explanation from him.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I would’ve noticed you,” Claire said by accident. She didn’t want him to know she paid that much attention to him and his good looks.

  “I was in the back corner,” he said, coming out of the shadows while still leaving quite a bit of space between him and the horses. “What are you ladies up to ‘round here, anyway?”

  Zoey said, “We fall into adventures, this being one of them.”

  “Uh-huh.” The corner of his mouth turned up in suspicion.

  “Really,” she added. “This vacation was set up by a friend of mine. I had no clue there were… you know… werewolves in these parts.”

  His smile broadened, showing a flash of white teeth. He looked at Claire. “And you two are going to help us?”

  Claire cocked her head. “It will be a good thing for your people to have this case solved, right?”

  He slowly nodded, his eyes locked on hers. “We’ll see…” He turned and walked away into the building.

  “Okay, that was different,” noted Claire.

  “Let’s face it. Everybody’s different around here.” Zoey quickened her horse’s steps, as did Claire.

  As they entered the forest on the way back to Jack’s, Claire said, “Mom, can you tell which one is Lance or Ivan?”

  “I can’t tell any difference,” Zoey said. “Unless I’ve been riding the same one all along, dear.”

  *

  Meanwhile, Stewart had his equipment out and was registering results where Martin’s body used to lay. Leftover blood dotted dry leaves. Police tape still encircled the spot. His paranormal wand was long enough to not need to step over the boundary. A soft growl from somewhere close by stole his attention. He lowered the wand as he turned, face still and eyes flashing around in search.

  A strange, large wolf crashed through the brush beside him, and raised up on his hind feet.

  As the Kanes were riding up the road, they saw the silhouette of a huge wolf chasing a man in a hat. Zoey yelled, “Hey!” and her horse reared. The wolf stopped, turning to face her, and ran back into the woods. Once Zoey got her horse under control, they raced up to who they knew was Stewart.

  “Are you okay?” Claire asked the shaking young man.

  Blinking rapidly and breath short, Stewart said, “He was going to kill me; I know it!”

  “Stewart, what happened?” asked Zoey in a calm, quiet voice, looking down at him from her seated position.

  He took off his hat and wiped his receding hairline’s sheen of sweat. “I was hiking back to the road here, and an animal with claws and teeth was attacking me, and I used my wand to hit him over the head, which seemed to make him all the more violent, and then I ran, and he ran after me, and you yelled ‘Hey,’ and he ran back into the woods, which means you saved my life.” He took a deep breath.

  “Let’s call the police,” Claire advised, glancing between him and her mother.

  But Stewart said, “I want to go home and then call the police, because I don’t want to be hanging around here.”

  “Where’s your ATV?” Zoey peered around the dark forest.

  “Across the way.” Stewart motioned with his hat. “But I don’t want to go get it because that animal may go after me again. In other words, I’m just plain scared and not ashamed to admit it.”

  Zoey thought he might be on the verge of tears. She took her foot out of the stirrup and said, “Climb on. We’ll go get our car and drive you back with us. You can get your ATV tomorrow, in the daylight.”

  “I doubt it’ll be there. That thing will probably be driving all over the county tonight, zooming up the road that way and then zooming back this way.” That made the girls laugh, imagining that. He also chuckled, with a tear in one eye.

  “You didn’t get hurt at all, Stewart?” Claire asked as he mounted. The horses started steadily walking along.

  He reached out an arm. “He clawed my left wrist.” It was a deep, bloody wound.

  “That needs a
doctor,” she determined, her brow furrowed in concern.

  Zoey flashed a glance at it. She said, “We’ll call for one once we’re back at the Howliday Inn.”

  The horses were carefully put up, and the drive back was uneventful. Stewart had insisted the doors be locked. The headlights didn’t show any sign of anything else out of the ordinary. Back at the inn, the police were called and a doctor from Lanternwood summoned. The police wanted the wound swabbed for forensics, and Stewart was given a tetanus shot, some stitches, and was bandaged up.

  Zoey was feeling maternal toward Stewart. Fear was still evident in his dark blue eyes. She wanted to hug him, so she did. “You are totally safe. That creature didn’t really want to kill you. I think it just wanted to run you off. So don’t go back there.”

  “I won’t… ever,” he said, although the ladies were skeptical. They could tell how addicted Stewart was to paranormal danger.

  It was almost midnight before the Kanes made it into their beds. They left the convertible ceiling closed, because they each wanted a little more sense of security, themselves. After Stewart, too, had nearly been attacked, the creep factor surrounding The Howliday Inn was quickly rising.

  SEVEN

  The next morning, the Kanes decided to have breakfast up in their luxury suite to detox from all of the previous day’s adrenaline-rushing events. So their food order consisted of waffles that tasted way better than hotcakes—drenched in butter and pure maple syrup—cheesy hash browns, and a side of grapefruit “for good health.”

  While they ate in their airy sitting “room,” Claire brought up the logging camp. She had been Googling it while her mother was getting ready for the day. She was thankful her smartphone could connect to the inn’s Wi-Fi. “There’s actually an interesting story related to Stiles Logging Camp,” she said.

  Zoey raised her eyebrows. “Do tell,” she said, and took a bite of waffle.