The Wolf's Daughter (The Tala Chronicles)

by Patricia La Barbera

  “I have confidence in you.” Tala managed a smile.

  “Well, here goes.” Vanessa poked the hairpin into the lock and jiggled it. Then she repeated the action a few times. “Hmm. Maybe I should use something else. Do you have any paper clips?”

  Tala walked toward the kitchen cabinets and opened up a top drawer. She riffled around and finally came up with one.

  “Maybe this will work.” Vanessa straightened the clip.

  Vanessa tried again but couldn’t open the lock. “I guess I’m ready to admit defeat. What next?”

  Tala ignored her question for the moment. “Vanessa, I’ve found horrible photos in the attic, pictures of people mutilated.”

  “Stop, Tala, I don’t want to hear about them.”

  “Well, I guess you don’t want to see them, either. It’s just that you might know something about them.”

  “You guessed right, and why would I ever know about stuff like that?”

  “Yes, I suppose it was a stretch. But I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t know where else to turn. I also have a strong feeling the diary holds answers.”

  “So, how are we going to open it?”

  “I don’t know. Wait—the locksmith. I’m sure he could do it.”

  “Well, I suppose he could,” Vanessa said, “but do you want him to know about this?”

  “Why not? And it’s not like I’d let him read it. I’m calling him right now.”

  Tala listed her outgoing calls and clicked on the locksmith’s number. She let the phone ring a long time.

  “Owl Locksmith. May I help you?”

  “I really hope so. This is Tala Martin. Remember, you changed my locks?”

  “Oh yes, Tala. How are you?”

  “I’m okay, Edgar. But I wanted to ask a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “Well.” She swallowed hard. “In the attic I found a book in a wire cage. I’d really appreciate it if you could open it for me.”

  “Hmm. I’ve been doing this job for fifty-five years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this—sometimes it’s better to leave things locked.”

  “That’s not an option at this point, Edgar. Please help me.”

  ***

  Edgar, holding the cage, sat at the kitchen table. Tala poured chamomile tea into two mugs, one with a picture of a wolf and the other decorated with an owl, which she gave to Edgar. Vanessa had an appointment to show a house and had to leave before he arrived.

  He touched the clasp. “Do you know what this represents?”

  “My neighbor told me some things about the design.” She drew the amulet out from her shirt. “But I don’t know what to believe.” Tala handed him the tea.

  “There are Native American beliefs we don’t speak of to outsiders. I’m sorry I can’t help you with that, but I probably can help you with opening the lock. The rest is up to you.”

  “I’m sure that would be a big help, Edgar.”

  The old man picked up a tool and inserted it into the lock. He shook his head. It didn’t open.

  “Some locks fight back. I have to pray over this one.” He put his right palm over the lock with its wild beast depiction, and chanted in a low voice.

  Tala couldn’t make out the words, but whatever they were, she hoped his next attempt would be successful.

  Edgar slowly took his palm away from the lock and tried again with the tool. This time—success. He handed the cage to Tala.

  “Thank you, Edgar.” She paid him, and Edgar finished his tea.

  When he was leaving, he hesitated by the door for a minute. “Although I can’t tell you any secrets, let me know if there’s some other way I can help you.”

  “I will, Edgar. Thanks.”

  She opened the door for him and watched as he walked down the path to his bottle-green antique truck. Tala locked the door and hid the amulet from the cage in a Blue Willow vase in the living room. Then she returned to the kitchen and the diary.

  It had to be her imagination, but the diary had a faint glow. She reached for it, but before she could touch it, her grandmother’s voice floated to her: “Do not open the book, Tala.”

  She turned slowly. Her grandmother stood there, her eyes pleading.

  “Leave now. Now! It’s not safe for you to learn these things.”

  She rubbed her eyes, and her grandmother was gone.

  The loud ringing of the house phone made her jump, and she ran into the hallway. “Hello.”

  “This is Willis Sharp. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one who owns the contents of your mother’s house. I don’t appreciate the fact that you hung up on my attorney. Why are you making this more difficult for yourself than it has to be?”

  “Look, I’m still not convinced this is all on the level. I told your attorney I haven’t found my mother’s copy of the receipt yet. I haven’t had enough time to look for it. Now stop bothering me, or I’ll call the police.”

  “Let me assure you, the police are on my side.”

  “We’ll see about that if you harass me again.” She slammed the receiver down, this time not regretting the action. She returned to the table and sat down. Tala stared at the diary for a long time. She finally picked it up and waited for her grandmother’s voice, but only silence filled the kitchen.

  The mauve leather cover had the word Diary inscribed in elegant gold script, though faded. She turned the book over, but the back had nothing written on it. Tala took a deep breath and opened it. Her grandmother’s name titled the first page. What she read next made her drop the book.

  Chapter Six

  “What happened with Tala?”

  Matt leaned back on Jack’s stained microfiber recliner. Some inane situation comedy filled the television screen. He rubbed the chair arm and wondered what the color had been when it was new. He shook his head. “Look, I know you’re my best buddy, but I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bottle all that up?”

  Matt let his hand drop to the side, and Rocky, Jack’s Labrador lying next to him, raised his head and licked it. He absently patted his head. “No, but I don’t know what else to do with it.”

  “Why don’t you contact her?”

  “I already sent her a note saying I didn’t want to see her again.” He’d leave out the part about asking her to leave town as soon as possible.

  “That doesn’t sound like you, giving up so easily.”

  He sat up straight. “Oh yeah, Jack. Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  Jack put up his hands. “Okay, simmer down.”

  Matt pounded a fist on the armrest. “It’s just that when I was with her in the restaurant, I got the same feelings as that night in the graveyard after the prom. I felt this energy surge through my body, and I-I had to get away from her before…something happened.”

  “You were probably just nervous. You know, you finally saw the woman again whom you’ve dreamed about all these years.”

  “That would all be plausible if you were talking about a normal person.” Or persons. But in spite of everything, he wanted to blame the whole thing on himself. “No, it was more than that with me.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “I left.”

  “And then what?”

  “I drove home and went to sleep.” The truth, at least part of it. He had awakened in the morning and couldn’t remember how he had gotten home or what had occurred during the night.

  “Well, all I know is you sure dumped Megan fast when Vanessa told you Tala was coming back to town.”

  “You’re right, and at least I found out Megan’s not the one. But that doesn’t mean Tala is, not after what happened again.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t care what you say. Seems to me this is unfinished business.”

  “It’s unfinished business that’s none of your business.” Matt stormed out, realizing he was acting like a jerk, but kept walking a
nyway without looking back.

  ***

  Tala picked up the diary and again read the sentence that had shocked her: “This is my journey to learn about the violence and tragedy haunting our family.”

  She stared at the page for a long time. At last, here it was in black and white. An admission. This was the key to knowing that everything hadn’t been her imagination. The secrets would be over. The whispers would turn into clear explanations. Her mother’s vague drunken mumblings would transform into coherent answers. But was she strong enough to learn the truth? Tala didn’t know, but the possibility of answers compelled her to continue reading.

  I held my grandchild in my arms today. What a perfect baby! I owe it to this angel to find out the truth of our family so she has a chance for a normal life. My daughter chose to drown her fear and confusion in alcohol, and her husband wasn’t strong enough to face the truth about his collusion. So now, I will try to make up for both their failures. And not only that, I will attempt to find out if the afflicted family members can do anything to release them from what seems like a curse. My cousin had hinted he had things he wanted to tell me, but I was too afraid of what he would say. I regret that now that he’s dead. But there is one other person who may tell me, although the danger of seeing him sends a chill through me.

  I have lived like a hermit for a very long time in the guesthouse of our family’s residence. My daughter and her husband need more room than I do, and I don’t want to be in the midst of their unpleasantness. My brief trip to the hospital was the rare exception to the seclusion. I order my groceries and have them left on the porch. Once a month, I pay the bill through the mail.

  The idea of leaving the house for any length of time terrifies me, and his house is two miles away. I don’t want anyone else to know about my journey, so I must walk there. Two miles! But I must go. Of course, I don’t know if he’ll see me after all these years. If I still have the courage, I’ll call him tomorrow and find out.

  Good news! The man I almost married twenty years ago has welcomed me to his house. I will set out tomorrow. I have great hopes to finally find out so many things. My daughter and the baby will be coming home in a few days. I must take care of this before they return.

  If there are tear stains on this page, do not be surprised. Although my intention of visiting Malcolm was fulfilled, the grief, sorrow, and fear it created make me wonder if it were worth it.

  His butler answered the door and escorted me to the library. Malcolm rose from the wing chair, and said it was wonderful to see me after so many years.

  When I asked him how he was, he told me he was fine, but he seemed a little frail to me. He had aged, but he still had the handsome looks that had attracted me to him so many years ago.

  After I sat down, he asked me what brought me to him after so long.

  I explained that when I held my grandchild, I realized I wanted answers about what had happened with our relationship. I knew this had something to do with our families, and I wanted to ensure that my grandchild would have a better life, a life without confusion, fear, and guilt.

  He sighed and said he had heard there was a method of reversing what he called the strain, but that it was very dangerous, and it could lead to the death of many people. I pleaded with him to tell me, but he said he’d have to consider it further. He told me we had powerful ancestors, and no matter what the situation seemed, we should honor them. He added something that puzzled me. Malcolm said strains can take a long time to disappear, regardless of civilization, which was no match for power. He said my nephew had realized that, and that was why he disappeared after the Bolton murder. Malcolm felt certain Gregory knew the method but did not have the courage or confidence to try it. He also said rumors had circulated that someone saw him running into the woods. A family cottage sat deep in the forest, but a search party never found him.

  He then told me my eyes were changing, getting lighter and glowing. And he should never have consented to my visiting him. He reached into his pocket and handed me an amulet he said I should have. When his hand touched mine, he pulled me against him. I screamed, and the butler came in. He restrained Malcolm, and I ran from the house.

  When I reached our home, I ran in the door and locked it. I vowed to never leave again. It seemed as though Malcolm and I were playing out an old theme.

  Later when I looked carefully at the amulet, I saw that it had the same picture as the lock on a small cage-like box I had seen as long as I could remember when I played in the attic. A key hung on a black ribbon, but the box was empty. It seemed the perfect place to put the diary, so it would be away from prying eyes. I hid the key.

  My shock and devastation are crippling me. It seems that after I left Malcolm’s house, the butler was killed. The murderer used a knife, and there were bite marks on his body. Am I as much to blame for the death as Malcolm, if he is indeed to blame at all? But of course, all the indications point to him. Why did I think anything would be different between us? It was selfish of me to put anyone at risk, but I just wanted to stop this very thing from ever happening again.

  Too overcome with emotion to continue reading, Tala closed the book. She stared off into space and wasn’t able to sort her thoughts no matter how she tried to concentrate. It was all a jumble—how Matt’s reaction to her was so much like Malcolm’s to her grandmother, the amulet, and yes, even the murders. And what she really didn’t want to admit: how much it seemed as if Matt were responsible for Debbie’s death.

  Maeve jumped on her lap and started purring. She hugged her and sat quietly for a while. The cat always sensed her anxiety, but even Maeve’s presence didn’t make up for the fact that Tala would have to read more of the diary. And she feared what the next passages would reveal.

  ***

  When Matt went back to his apartment, the first thing he did was take out his high school yearbook. He flipped to the page with Tala’s picture on it. It was no use. She’d always be the one. He picked up his cell phone and started dialing her number. He stopped before the last digit, put the phone down, and held his head in his hands. There had to be something he could do to change the situation. But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t come up with an answer.

  His phone rang.

  “Hey, you’re not going to believe this.” Jack sounded breathless. “They just picked up Vinnie, the waiter at Dante’s, as a person of interest in the Blackthorn Road murder. Seems they got an anonymous tip.”

  “You’re kidding? A flicker of hope charged through Matt.

  ***

  Willis Sharp surveyed his dusty antique shop, the third one in the family. A banker, who had gotten his comeuppance, had foreclosed on it. Willis smiled slightly. However, his grandfather had been able to open another, but the bank also foreclosed on that one, and the guilty party got his punishment. The family sank into poverty, which everyone had believed had led to the death of his grandmother and his two frail sisters.

  His own shop had suffered serious financial trouble also. He had spent most of his savings to buy the contents of the Martin house. Sharp intended to get what he paid for. He didn’t care about the threadbare furniture. But like him, the Martins traced their roots to an ancient family that could channel energy. He needed more information...and an amulet. Because of the financial problems caused by Tala’s ancestors, his family had to sell their amulets. They could never afford to replace them.

  As he’d aged, the Violent strain had gotten weaker, even though that had not stopped him from murdering. Without an amulet, he’d die soon. With one, the possibility of immortality if he wasn’t killed by another Violent. His father had told him that although the amulet would grant a certain amount of power to some Violents and Violent Makers, Sharp’s family was one of the few that had Violents with the chance for immortality.

  He never thought Tala would return to Wolfeboro, not after her father’s murder ten years ago. She put a wrench in the works, but Sharp was confident it was only a temporary snag. He could turn on t
he charm when he needed to. He had lots of experience with flattering well-to-do matrons who didn’t have a clue as to what their furniture was worth. Sharp had high hopes for his abilities with Tala, even though things had started out on a bad note. He did have a special card to play with her, which he’d save to the very end, either to get what he wanted or to get revenge for not getting it.

  Most importantly, either he got an amulet and learned the immortality process or he would die soon. His recent doctor’s appointment had confirmed his fears. Tala’s mother had told him she had an amulet and her grandmother’s diary, which had the information he sought. If he couldn’t get them legally...well, there were other ways to get what he wanted.

  ***

  Tala put the diary aside for the moment to search in the attic again. She carefully maneuvered the steps. Her foot was hurting a lot more than usual, and she had to go slowly. When she reached the darkened room, she turned on the meager light and hobbled over to a promising pile of boxes. She knelt next to them.

  The first one yielded nothing but ancient tax statements. When she opened the next one, children’s artwork with her mother’s name on the sheets surprised her. She lifted the pile and placed it on the floor. Tala couldn’t resist going through them. She sifted through crude drawings, some of butterflies and flowers. In one, a clown stood close to a circus tent. When she picked up the picture of a cat, what was under it made her grab her chest—a drawing of some kind of beast with fangs. This picture gave her a more terrifying feeling than the photos of the bodies. So her mother had been aware of at least part of the story even when she was a child.

  Tala sat down next to the boxes and tried to think about what her next course of action should be. The ringing of the cell phone interrupted her musings, and she answered it.

  “Okay, Tala, hot off Lucy’s press.” Vanessa’s words tumbled out. “Vinnie, the waiter at Dante’s, was taken in for questioning about Debbie’s murder.”

  “You’re kidding. Why?”