by Lisa Olsen
Tired as she was, Amelia almost missed it, but for the sudden break in the cloud cover and the emergence of the moon, pale and luminous, reflecting the visible corner of the sign. Slamming on the brakes, Amelia guided the sturdy little jeep onto the narrow road. “Not at all creepy…” she murmured to herself as the canopy of surrounding woods instantly swallowed the moon’s pale light.
On and on the twisting road brought her deeper into the pass through the mountains. While the road itself was in good shape, it was slow going with all the leaves and branches obscuring the pavement, straining her already frayed senses. Just about to debate turning back and waiting for morning, the trees parted to give her a view of the town glistening like a hidden jewel in the valley below. Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of lights and civilization, Millie gave a shuddering laugh at herself for being so jumpy.
The trees grew less dense as she neared the little town, and Amelia found the oppressive gloom of the forest fading. Of course, that left plenty of room for more mundane worries. Other than her grandmother’s first name, she had no idea whatsoever how to find the woman. No idea what she looked like, or even if she was still alive except for the absolute certainty in her brother’s voice. How hard could it be to find a woman in a town that size? Especially one where she’d lived all her life?
Apparently harder than she’d thought.
At eight p.m. most of the shops lining the main street were dark or locked up tight, as was the gas station. Not that Tres Cruces, New Mexico had been a thriving metropolis; at least they had their share of twenty-four hour gas stations and mini marts, and even a decent bar or two. There were people out strolling on foot, but Millie was leery of approaching total strangers on the street to ask after her grandmother with Luc’s warning still ringing in her ears.
As she continued to the end of the main thoroughfare, the only place that proved to be a Mecca for the townspeople was a pub called The Muddy Rudder, decorated in a fisherman’s motif. Muted strains of the Grateful Dead punctuated by rowdy laughter drifted on the night breeze as she neared the heavy, wooden door, pulling on it with a soft groan. The moment she stepped into the bar, conversation died as all eyes swung towards her. Sure a girl likes to be looked at, but this was ridiculous…
Resisting the urge to scowl at the nosiest patrons, Amelia pasted on a tight lipped smile as she made her way to the bar, hoping some of the interest would fade in a minute or two. A thick lipped bartender shuffled over, openly gaping at her as he swabbed the bar with a rag that had seen better days. “Help you, Miss?”
“Ah yes, cup of coffee please?” Amelia gave him a polite smile, noting with dismay that there were no Visa or MasterCard logos anywhere by the ancient cash register. There went more of her precious cash. She could only hope she’d have better luck at the local motel or she’d be sleeping in the back of her jeep.
“Coffee…” he repeated, staring at her as if she’d spoken a foreign language.
“Yeah, coffee? Anything hot really.”
The bartender scratched behind his ear. “I got hot cider, that be alright, Miss?”
Hot cider. She hadn’t had hot cider in years. “Sure, that sounds fine,” she nodded, letting him off the hook, and he shuffled off to fetch her drink.
Conversation started up again in muted tones, and though not everyone stared so much at her anymore, there were still an inordinate amount of glances in her direction. Refusing to let them cow her, she stared back brazenly at anyone she caught looking. The cider delivered a minute later; Millie savored the warmth of the mug and the spices that tickled her nose. Closing her eyes to the outside world, she allowed herself a moment of liquid comfort.
Feeling decidedly warmer and rapidly losing her inhibitions at talking to complete strangers, Amelia decided to get down to business. “Excuse me, Sir?” she called out to the bartender again. “I wonder if you can help me find somebody here in town.”
The bartender’s bushy brows rose a fraction as he set down the carafe. “Who are you looking for?”
“My grandmother Adele, she’s ah… in her early sixties… I think…” Amelia frowned. She had no idea how old the woman actually was or what she looked like. The bartender reverted back to staring again, and she began to wonder if he was a little slow between the ears. “She ah… she had a son named Remy but he moved away before I was born… did I say something wrong?” The furrow across her brow deepened as the bartender backed away from her, eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder. “Now what?” she muttered.
“You’ll have to forgive Hugo; he doesn’t get to talk to pretty girls very often. He’s a bit shy,” a low voice offered at her ear.
Startled by the close proximity, Amelia flinched, sloshing a bit of the hot cider onto her lap. With a hiss, she grabbed a cocktail napkin to swab up the mess. “That’s a really good trick, sending a girl to the burn unit. Do you get a lot of dates this way?” she scowled instinctively before her eyes lifted.
To say he was good looking would be an understatement, with his long, lean form and broad shoulders. A dark, intense gaze came from beneath sun-streaked brown hair that reached almost his chin in a dangerous, unkempt look that probably took him the better part of an hour to cultivate. The perfect tilt of his lips proved he was well aware of the whole package he projected; almost predatory in nature. Millie found that even knowing his type didn’t make her immune to the power of his smile.
“To be fair most girls are drinking something cool, not hot. So… I can’t say I’ve been disappointed in the number of tops removed at a good accidental spill,” he smirked. “But I’m sorry if you were hurt.”
“Yeah well, I’m not stripping down to my panties, so…” she smirked back, tossing the wadded napkin onto the bar. “I’m alright; the cider probably smells better than I do anyway.”
“For the record, I happen to think you smell… delicious,” his grin turned wolfish, cementing her image of him as a predator. “Though by the look of things, it’s not your first food related casualty of the day.” He reached out to smooth his finger over the faint brown stain on the edge of her shirt, brows drawing together into a single dark line. “At least this one was without bloodshed.”
“How did you know it was blood?” Now it was time for her brows to rise in confusion and surprise. Ignoring her question, he continued to stare at the stains.
“It’s not your blood is it?”
“No… it’s not.” Millie dropped her gaze, not able to bring herself to offer more details to a total stranger in a bar. The hot cider had muted her pain for a few minutes, but the sight of Luc’s blood spattered on her shirt brought it all back in vivid detail. With an effort, she pushed it back into the private space in her heart to keep for later when she was alone. “Look, I can respect the whole ‘on the make’ thing you’ve got going on, but it’s really not a good time for me right now, okay? I’m looking for my grandmother. Her name is Adele, and she lives here in Cutter’s Folly. Do you happen to know who and where she is?” Her voice raw with emotion, Amelia pleaded with him to drop the smarmy pick up lines for the time being and recognize that she needed a little help. Thankfully, he seemed to grasp her need and nodded solemnly.
“I’m sorry, Amelie; yes, I can take you to your grandmother. She’s…”
The door opened, and all eyes were riveted to the slight figure who stood there, commanding all with her steely gaze; carriage stiff and regal as though they were her subjects. If the room had fallen silent at Millie’s earlier entrance, it was nothing compared to the way everyone went perfectly still, as if not wanting to draw her attention. What was it with the town?
“She’s right over there,” he finished, backing away.
“My name’s not Amelie…” Millie started to correct him before the door swung open again. It was pretty damn close to her name, and she wondered what made him call her that, but those thoughts were deflected by the sudden appearance of her grandmother. The old woman’s sharp gaze examined her critically, and Amelia
simply stared back as the silver haired woman strode towards her.
Pausing directly in front of her, Adele’s haughty expression broke, warmth piercing those grey eyes. “Welcome home, my dear.” She reached out to touch Amelia’s chin, turning her face first one way and then the other. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal I’ll wager, but you’re safe now. You will always be safe in Cutter’s Folly.” Her voice rose at the last, more of a declaration to the room than a private conversation, though her gaze never left her granddaughter’s face.
“Grandmother,” Millie replied uneasily; not sure whether to hug her or genuflect. Not ever having had a grandmother around to bake cookies with, her expectations were a little uncertain to begin with, but Adele’s manner so far was just plain weird. Her mode of speech sounded oddly formal, as if English might not be her first language, but there wasn’t much of an accent to her voice.
Adele released the hold on her chin and beckoned to the door. “Come, it’s late, we have much to discuss,” she ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Just a sec, I need to pay for my drink,” Millie protested, digging into her purse, but Adele waved away the concern, already leading her to the door.
“It will be taken care of.”
“Ah… okay.” A quick look back to Hugo the bartender confirmed he didn’t seem all that worried about getting paid, so she followed along, wondering what had happened to her admirer. Not so suave now was he? Afraid of a little old lady…
Assured that her jeep would be retrieved, Amelia followed her to a bottle green Jaguar; sleek and posh in its lines. A pretty blonde girl, maybe a year younger than Amelia opened the rear doors for them with a shy smile.
There was a moment’s hesitation before she climbed in beside the old woman, years of being told not to get into the car with strangers deeply ingrained into her psyche. But this wasn’t a stranger; Adele was her last known blood relative. Telling herself not to be such a baby, Amelia slid into the car with an answering smile for the blonde driver.
Once they were alone in the car, Amelia assumed her grandmother would warm up a little, maybe lose some of the starch in her spine. But Adele remained rigidly upright in her seat, silent for the duration of the drive. Millie looked for an opening to ask how she’d known to come and find her at the Muddy Rudder, or why everyone in town looked at her like some kind of Mafioso (or was it Mafiosa?), but there didn’t seem to be a good time to broach the subject. Besides, the sooner they got into it, the sooner she’d have to tell her about what happened, and Millie wasn’t in that big of a rush to get into it. Maybe she’d let her beg off until morning? It wasn’t like Adele was proving to be a big fan of conversation anyway.
Soon enough they pulled up in front of a large Victorian house, painted in muted shades of gray with a dusky purple trim.
“This is your new home.” The silence broken, Adele finally turned to regard Amelia, patting her hand lightly as the blonde hurried to open her door.
“It’s… big…” Millie blurted out, not quite sure what else to say about the manor that loomed in the darkness. Most of the windows were black save a single light burning in the living room.
“It is indeed, more than enough room for you to join our family. In fact, more than enough room for all of you, had only your parents heeded my advice to come home in time,” her voice became tinged with sadness. “Too late now to dwell upon what might have been. Come along, Amelie,” she instructed, leading the way into the house.
“It’s Amelia actually,” she replied automatically, jogging up the steps to keep up after the shock of what her grandmother said sank in. “Then you know about what happened to my parents and Luc?”
“Oui, I was on the phone with the authorities for most of the morning. A devastating business; one should never outlive one’s child…” Adele sighed, snapping on the lights as she led the way to the parlor.
“Did the police… did they figure out what happened to them?” Millie mashed her lips together, reluctant to say much about the night before; hardly sure she believed any of it herself.
“You mean do they know that your parents and my beloved Luc were torn apart by wolves? No, the fire managed to mask their true cause of death, thank goodness for that.”
The breath left Millie’s body in a rush as she burst that bubble of anticipation. “Then how did you…?”
“My sphere of influence extends beyond this valley, Amelie; I am not without my resources. It was only a matter of time before they came for you. It’s unfortunate that your parents sought to shelter you by hiding you away from me as well, or I could have…”
“Wait… what? Before they came for me?” Millie blinked, not quite sure she’d heard her correctly. Why would anyone come after her?
“Yes, my dear, after you,” she replied gently. “Through no fault of your own, you have been sought after since the day you were born.”
“But… why? I don’t get any of this. Why aren’t you surprised to see me? Why would anyone be after me and why are you so blasé about your son and family being ripped apart by wolves?” An edge of hysteria gripped her voice, and Millie felt the sudden need to sit down, sinking onto the couch.
Adele lowered herself into the large wingback chair before the fireplace. “It’s a long story, one that might be better served after a good night’s rest.”
Sleep was all she’d been craving for the past twelve hours, but that was the farthest thing from her mind after that little pronouncement. “If you think for a minute that I’m gonna be able to slip off to dreamland after something like that, you’re crazy. I need some answers, and I need them now.”
Stiffening at the response, Adele’s mouth dropped into a frown of disapproval. “I’m not accustomed to being addressed in such a manner.”
“I don’t give a good Goddamn what you’re used to. In the past twenty-four hours I’ve seen my parents and my brother ripped apart by some kind of wolves and my home destroyed by fire. I’ve driven halfway across the country without a lick of sleep, and you’re telling me this is all because of me. So start talking now or I’m walking out of here to find my own answers.” Millie was running on fumes, but there was no way she could back down, even if the old lady tossed her out on her ear. Chin coming up with determination, she met her gaze evenly.
For a long moment they locked gazes and Amelia began to think she really would throw her out for talking back, but then instead of blowing her stack, Adele started to laugh. A rusty sound, as though she wasn’t prone to laughter at first, followed by a deep throaty chuckle. Amelia’s brows drew together in frustration. “I’m glad you find this so amusing…” she rose to her feet.
“Oh sit, ma chere, you just reminded me of why you’re the One. Actually you remind me a bit of myself at your age,” she added with another chuckle. “Very well, I will give you all the answers I have to give, and then you may decide if you will stay here with me and what protection I can offer you, or if you would prefer to take your chances out there alone.”
Amelia sank down onto the couch again in relief. “Okay… so, start with who they are and why they’re after me,” she prompted, but Adele countered with a shake of the head.
“Before I begin with who they are, I must begin with who you are.”
“I know who I am, Grandmother.”
“Do you?” her eyes crinkled with amusement.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Books by Lisa Olsen
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