Even now, if she closed her eyes and tried very hard, she could still smell the sweet scent of the meadow and feel the warmth of the bright sunshine that had streamed to the earth there.
Reminiscing about that meadow had been her one salvation in those early days back East. It had been the place to which she had escaped in her mind when the unexpected loss of her mother, the sudden uprooting from her home and Gram, and the darkness and dreariness of the town house belonging to Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith had proved far too depressing and overwhelming for her, a lonely, baffled child.
But now, as all these memories of the meadow besieged her, Hallie could not suppress a wry smile. She did not think her great-aunts had ever believed in faeries. But Gram and Hallie’s mother had believed, and they had passed that belief on to her.
They had talked to the honeybees, too. She wondered if those precious insects were still raised at Meadowsweet, their white wooden hives lined up neatly in a row behind the farmhouse. She hoped so.
Despite all the years that had passed since she had left Wolf Creek, there was still so much Hallie did not know, did not understand. Why, for instance, had Gram ever sent her away to begin with? Other children lost their parents, grieved and tried to go on with their lives afterward. They were not packed off to long-estranged relatives and never permitted to come back home. Still, that was exactly what Gram had done to her.
Had Hallie not been so certain of her grandmother’s deep and abiding love for her, she would have thought that after her mother’s death, Gram had not wanted to be bothered with her, a seven-year-old child. But, no, that was not the reason. Hallie felt sure of that. There was something else, something her grandmother had never told her, always keeping her at arm’s length ever after, when the two of them had previously been so close.
Even now, when so much else was misty in her mind, Hallie could remember trotting in Gram’s wake, helping to feed the chickens and to care for the honeybees, to harvest fruit from the orchard and vegetables from the garden and to hang the clean wash out on the clothesline to dry. Yes, there had been a time when she could have been described as her grandmother’s little shadow.
But then her mother had died, and everything had changed.
Maybe because she resembled her dead mother so much, she had been a painful reminder to her grandmother of their mutual loss. Perhaps that was why it had appeared Gram could no longer bear the sight of her and so had packed her off to the care of Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith. If that were indeed the case, Gram’s action would at least be understandable, if not particularly kind. Still, however plausible, this rationale did not seem at all in keeping with what Hallie recalled of her grandmother’s joyous, generous nature. Nor did it explain why, in the end, Gram had willed her the farm.
But what other reason could there have been?
Hallie did not know, but one of the main reasons she was now returning to Wolf Creek and Meadowsweet was to try to find out. Her grandmother was dead and buried now, so could no longer keep her away, and surely, by leaving her the farm, Gram had intended that she come home at long last, anyway.
Because she was so lost in her thoughts, it was only at the last moment that from the corner of her eye, Hallie glimpsed the streak of dark fur that suddenly shot across the highway unwinding endlessly before her. Abruptly jolted from her reverie, she instinctively slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the animal. In response, her small red vehicle screeched along the road, tires burning rubber and laying skid marks, before coming to such a bone-jarring stop that she felt certain she would have a bruise later from the seat belt she wore.
Ahead of her, in the middle of the highway, stood the largest wolf Hallie had ever seen.
As a child, she had often spied the animals, which had given Wolf Creek its name. But this one was unquestionably uncommon—and not only in size. For it was almost wholly black in color, with only a little silver-gray around its face, and as it stared hard at her, she saw that in a rare but recognized twist of genetics, it had retained the gleaming blue eyes with which all wolf cubs were born, but that normally turned golden in adulthood. A thin but visible jagged scar ran downward across its left cheek, as though the animal had survived some long-ago, hand-to-paw battle with a hunter and, for its defiance, been knifed during the desperate struggle.
Hallie felt strangely mesmerized by the beast’s gaze, unable to tear her eyes away. Oddly, despite its obvious size and strength, the wolf did not initially appear menacing to her. But that was before, without warning, gathering its powerful muscles, it lunged toward her, abruptly leaping onto the hood of the car and pressing its muzzle against the windshield to peer in at her.
The unexpected weight and action of the animal jolted the vehicle violently, causing it to rock briefly and Hallie first to scream and then to catch her breath in her throat as she wondered if the beast were capable of somehow shattering the safety glass in order to attack her. Ludicrously, in some dim corner of her mind, she also hoped the wolf’s hard, sharp toenails had not scratched the car.
The disjointed, upsetting thoughts that raced through her brain were joined by others equally unnerving. At this moment, the only weapon of any kind she possessed was the sturdy LifeHammer she carried in the glove compartment, in order to break the vehicle’s windows in the event that she should ever have an accident that caused the car to become submerged in water. Still, she doubted the emergency tool would prove much use in defending her against the animal that loomed over her, panting against the windshield, its pink tongue lolling and its fierce canine teeth showing almost unnaturally white in the pallid, glimmering light that waned toward dusk.
Inside the car, Hallie could hear the sound of her own breath, now coming harsh and fast, and feel her heart hammering in her breast as she pondered her predicament. She had heard of bears climbing on vehicles and threatening their occupants, but she could not remember any news reports of wolves resorting to such behavior, and so she was at a loss as to how to proceed.
On sudden impulse, she blasted the horn, hoping to startle the animal and send it on its way. But much to her dismay, her thoughtless action did not seem to have any effect, and belatedly, it occurred to her that the sound might only enrage the beast, inciting it into attempting to destroy the thin glass barrier that was all that separated the two of them.
As her wide, apprehensive green eyes continued to be riveted on the wolf, Hallie could see that behind it in the distance, the thunderstorm that had earlier massed on the horizon was now beginning to roll inexorably eastward, its ponderous dark gray clouds billowing and spreading like giant, smothering cotton boles across the land. In between the titanic, madding clouds, the last vestiges of the pale, sickly sunlight shimmered, thin bony fingers stretching toward her portentously before mutely evanescing, swallowed by the descending twilight and advancing storm.
At the sight, Hallie felt her heart sink. She had hoped to be safely ensconced at Meadowsweet before the storm broke. Now perhaps she would not reach the farm at all.
Still watching the predatory animal hulking on the hood of the car, she covertly unlatched the glove compartment and groped inside for the LifeHammer. She knew that because the windshield was laminated glass, the emergency tool would not smash it. Rather, it was designed to break the tempered glass of the side windows to effect escape.
Nevertheless, she had some vague notion that if she beat authoritatively on the windshield, the beast might mistakenly believe she was not only armed, but also quite capable of defending herself, and would move on.
That, instead, it might perceive her gesture as a threat and try to attack her through the glass, Hallie did not even want to consider.
Nor did she even think about stamping on the accelerator and speeding away. Whether such a result would actually occur, she worried that the impetus of that act might fling the massive wolf savagely against the windshield, shattering it, thus giving the animal access to the inside of the vehicle and causing her to run off the road, at the ver
y least.
She did have her cell phone with her and knew she could call the highway patrol for help. But what if dispatch did not believe her? Even as she tried to envision how to explain her situation, Hallie recognized how wild and improbable it would sound to someone not actually present to witness it.
She might be dismissed as some teenager pulling a silly prank.
Further, even if her story were given any credence, the animal would surely be gone by the time the highway patrol managed to arrive.
No, she was literally on her own. This particular stretch of road was desolate in more ways than one, without even another car in sight.
After rummaging blindly through the glove compartment for what seemed like minutes but, in reality, could only have been seconds, Hallie found the LifeHammer at last. As her fingers closed around it, they trembled with the fear that coursed through her wildly, and a lump rose in her throat, choking her. With determination, she swallowed this last.
Then, grasping the emergency tool tightly, she raised her fist, poised to strike the windshield, in an attempt to scare off the predatory beast.
At that, much to her utter surprise and confusion, its carnivorous visage pressing so close to her own vulnerable one through the glass split into what, in a human being, Hallie could only have described as a wide grin.
Then, just as suddenly as it had sprung onto the hood of the Mini, the great black wolf leaped down, swiftly and silently disappearing into the oncoming darkness and storm.
Chapter 2
Memories
Meadowsweet Farm, Wolf Creek, The Present
F or what seemed like an eternity after the wolf had vanished into the twilight, Hallie just sat there in the car, her fear only gradually ebbing to be replaced by overwhelming relief and astonishment at what had happened.
What had prompted the animal’s bizarre behavior? she wondered, still shaking. Perhaps the beast was deranged—or even rabid! At this last thought she shuddered visibly, knowing there was no cure for rabies and her imagination conjuring horrible, vivid visions of what a mad, sick wolf might have done to her, had it managed somehow to break the windshield and attack her.
And the way it had grinned at her! In that instant the animal had appeared almost human, amused by her plight and her desperate determination to fend it off however she could.
Now, for the first time, Hallie vaguely recalled snatches of conversation she had overheard in her childhood, something about the beasts that prowled the copses and meadows surrounding Wolf Creek, that they were not merely wolves, but something more….
No, that was simply impossible, nothing but local superstition and old-wives’ tales to scare naughty children, surely—although at this particular minute, Hallie could almost believe the stories were true.
Shivering, she finally realized she still clutched the LifeHammer in her hand, and that the first drops of rain that presaged the impending storm had started to fall, splattering like the saliva from the wolf’s panting tongue against the windshield. She could not continue to remain here on the highway, like a startled deer frozen in the oncoming glare of a pair of deadly headlights in the darkness.
Opening the glove compartment, she replaced the LifeHammer. Then, slowly, she stepped on the accelerator, only to discover that, sometime earlier, she had mechanically and habitually slid the gearshift into Park, so she had not had to keep her foot on the brake to prevent the vehicle from accidentally lurching forward with the animal atop its hood.
After slipping the gearshift back into Drive, Hallie started onward. But she had hardly picked up any speed at all when she suddenly observed a large, deep, dangerous pothole on her side of the road and drew once more to a halt.
Originally, the crater had been visibly marked with an orange-and-white-striped wooden barricade topped with flashing amber lights. But at some point, someone had obviously struck the sawhorse-shaped hazard warning, knocking it flat into the ditch alongside the highway.
Had Hallie come barreling down the road at her previous rate of speed, it was quite possible she would never even have noticed the blinking lights half concealed by the tall grass of the verge. She would have hit the pothole hard and dead-on, doubtless suffering a blowout or other serious accident.
If not for the wolf’s unexpected and still-inexplicable intervention, she might even have been killed!
At the dreadful realization, Hallie felt an icy tingle run down her spine.
Gram had always taught her that the earth’s creatures were a good deal more sentient than most people ever gave them credit for being. Had the animal somehow known what lay ahead of her in the road? Could it possibly have been attempting to save her?
No, surely, that was a farfetched idea!
Still, now that she thought about it, Hallie recognized that the beast had not actually done anything to threaten her. It had only stopped her dead in her tracks, forcing her to proceed a great deal more slowly when she resumed her course.
Oh, it had been a long day’s worth of driving, and she was hungry, tired and letting her wild imagination run away with her, Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith would most certainly stoutly insist. Hallie had little difficulty at all in envisioning their severe expressions of disapproval and dismay, respectively—Agatha stern and unrelenting, Edith flustered and upset that there should be any discord in the town house.
So, for a very long time now, Hallie had kept such fanciful notions as these to herself. But it seemed that the closer she got to the farm, the more her childhood self was struggling to emerge from the strict, sheltered cocoon in which the great-aunts had enshrouded it. For a moment, Hallie wondered if when she finally arrived at Meadowsweet, she would metamorphose into one of the bright butterflies that inhabited it. Then she shook her head, smiling ruefully at herself.
Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith would certainly not have approved of that idea!
But Gram would have. She would have flung her head back in that wholly unselfconscious and uninhibited way she had about her and laughed—a deep, rich laugh filled with the earthiness of the land she had loved so well and to which she had been so close.
At the memory, Hallie felt her eyes suddenly flood with tears, and for the second time in less than an hour, a lump rose in her throat, choking her. Abruptly, she laid her head on the steering wheel and cried her heart out.
But after a short while, she recognized that she must somehow pull herself together and get moving again, that at best, another vehicle might come along at any time and, not realizing she was stopped on the highway, crash into her.
Besides, there were the imminent storm and darkness to consider.
Determinedly stifling her sobs, Hallie carefully maneuvered around the treacherous pothole and at last drove on, eyeing the shadowy sky anxiously through the windshield. She loathed being caught in a storm while on the highway, and she suffered from night blindness, as well.
What if she missed the lonely and poorly marked dirt road that was the narrow turnoff to the farm? She certainly did not want to get lost out here in the middle of nowhere—especially with that huge wolf on the prowl!
Perhaps next time, it might not have such honorable intentions as she had so whimsically sought to bestow upon it.
Once or twice, from the corners of her eyes, Hallie uneasily thought she spied it following her, its silky black fur flashing amid the seemingly ceaseless rows of the tall cornfield that ran along one side of the highway. But as the dusk and the rain partially obscured her vision, she could not be sure, and resolutely, she told herself she was only imagining it, that for one thing, there was no way the animal could keep pace with her traveling car, and that for another, even if the beast were crazy and diseased, rather than sane and protective, it would scarcely be stalking her, but, rather, some other prey.
Still, briefly, she did wonder if there might be something about the color of her vehicle that had initially attracted the wolf and perhaps, more down to earth than her earlier flighty musings, even accounted fo
r its odd behavior. The car was painted a vibrant crimson shade dubbed “Nightfire Red” by the manufacturer, and Hallie knew the color red was supposed to enrage bulls—at least, that was why matadors employed crimson capes in the bullring, although some said the hue was to disguise the bloodstains engendered by the brutal sport.
But because she had never heard anything mentioned about the color red inciting wolves, she was finally forced to discard the idle theory, eventually putting the entire episode down as a life mystery she would probably never solve.
Sighing deeply at the thought of other life mysteries that decision brought to mind, Hallie pressed on, wondering again why Gram had ever sent her away from Meadowsweet.
The rain was falling harder now, making it difficult for her see. So she switched on her windshield wipers and headlamps, once more hoping she did not miss the lane that led from the highway to the farm.
Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, she reached for the map she had printed out for herself a couple of weeks ago, her route carefully marked so she would know the way. Hallie had thought that once she neared the farm, her memories would kick into gear and serve to guide her home.
But she was also realistic enough to realize that it had been many years since she had seen Meadowsweet, and that memories sometimes played tricks on one, too. So, with the practicality instilled in her by Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith, she had taken the precaution of arming herself with the map.
She ought to be getting very close now, she thought. But in the end, despite everything, she still almost missed the turnoff. It was now so overgrown that she did not recognize it, and in fact, it was only the glare of her headlights shining on the badly askew signpost at the junction that caught her attention as she flew past.
From the Mists of Wolf Creek Page 2
