by Kim Faulks
“It’ll give me something to do. Keep me occupied.”
I picked up the soft cloth and a fork, then worked the metal between my fingers over and over, in between and then along the ornate handle. We worked in silence. The mere act of sitting with another soothed me. Maybelle returned, carrying a saucer filled with milky tea and edged with two cookies. “I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten all day, Miss. You must eat something. You need your strength, especially in the coming days.”
I reached for the plate. The teaspoon rattled against the china in my hand until Maybelle placed it on the table next to me. I touched her hand. Her skin was warm. “Thank you.”
The tea was bitter, winced at the taste before Maybelle spooned another heaped spoon of sugar into the cup and stirred. “It’s to help you feel better, Miss.”
I nodded and let her fuss. The dry biscuits stuck to the back of my throat until I washed them down. The silence was awkward. I rubbed and polished, working slower than the two women beside me, until someone spoke. “There is talk of Wolfrik Sylvan getting ready to start courting. A fine looking man he is. I bet always hungry... and not just for food, if ya know what I mean.”
Wolfrick. Heat raced across my cheeks. Sarah saw and winked. It was silly to think others found him attractive. But good looks carried no weight on love. My grief was pushed to the side as I listened to the gossip and secretly smiled.
“He’s bigger than he was last time. All those muscles. They say he works from sun-up to sundown, cutting the wood. They say he’s a beast. Known to fight too, beat a man bloody, they said. I dunno about you, but I’d love to have a man work like that for me.”
I bit my lip to stop from smiling. I glanced up, carried away in their fervor. “So, this... Wolfrick is a favorite with the ladies, then?”
Maybelle responded, placing down the knife. “Ha! I wish. The man hasn’t looked at any woman. They say he has a lady friend though, but no one’s ever seen her. I bet she’s beautiful, with perfect teeth, too. I wish I had perfect teeth. What about you Miss, you got yourself a fella?”
I dropped my gaze, finding the cracks in the table and muttered. “No, why do you say that? I have no time for boyfriends.”
“So.” They leaned in, those two, like carrion on a carcass and aimed their hungry gaze to me. “Tell us about your suitors. We’ve seen that young man your father bought home last month. Tell us everything, leave nothing out.”
“I bet he kissed her, or at least wanted to.” Sarah chimed in.
I barked a laugh. The sound was hollow and forced. “What? Malcolm? He wasn’t a suitor and father never bought him home for me. He was the son of one of father’s friends. He wanted a position in the logging industry. Although he wasn’t enthused about early mornings and long days. Besides, he picked his nose. Filthy habit.”
“That’s disgusting.” Sarah grimaced.
The conversation faded, turning awkward once more. I drained my cup and pushed my seat backwards. “Thank you for the tea and the conversation. I’m glad you allowed me to sit with you.”
“Of course.” Maybelle muttered as they stood. “I’m glad we could bring you a moment of peace, Miss Gretel. And if there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“Thank you, both of you. You’ve been too kind.”
“And Miss... everything is going to be okay. Your brother insisted that I tell you he’ll be taking care of you now. He’s going to help you through your grief.”
I forced a smile, then turned and left the room. My brother had never been kind before—not in a very long time, so why would he care now?
My steps echoed along the hall. I stopped in the middle of the east wing hallway, listening to the wounded cries coming from my parent’s bedroom. If I was another daughter I might’ve gone to Mother and taken her in my arms. I might’ve given her strength, just as she gave me life. But there was a strangeness between us, one delivered on the day I was born. I wore her apathy like a caul upon my face, although Hansel seemed to have the opposite effect, giving her joy when I couldn’t.
My feet refused to move while her weeping tore at my soul. I wanted to run, tear up the stairs, and beat my brother’s door until he answered. I wanted to drag him to her room and force his arms around her body.
But, I did none of that. I stood there, swallowing her torment and her grief while the room spun and I no longer felt my own pain.
***
“Miss Gretel?”
A man’s voice. I cracked open my eyes to stared at the bottom of shining brown leather boots. Where am I? My headache was savage, sprouting talons to tear at my mind and a bitter taste filled my mouth. “Father?”
“It’s Leonard, Miss. You’re laying in the hallway, Miss. Will you allow me to carry you to your room?”
The deep bass of our servant’s voice filled my ears and tears slipped from my eyes. I closed my eyes and nodded. Strong arms lifted me. I was weightless. Floating like a spirit in this empty house. I wrenched open my eyes at the last minute and stared down the hallway to my mother’s room. A flash of white snatched my attention, then there was only darkness as she slammed her bedroom door.
Chapter Four
Gretel
I opened my eyes to the glare of the sun and rolled over. Pain tore through my head, sending shivers along my spine. I buried my head into my pillow until the sound of music penetrated the goose down. The tune was loud and vivacious. The piano. The ballroom.
I pushed myself up on shuddering arms, and eased my legs over the side of the bed, one at a time. I raised my hand to shield my eyes from the glare. The sun was too harsh. I swayed while my eyes adjusted. The grandfather clock chimed in the foyer below. I counted the bells, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten....
I glanced at the small collection of teacups perched on my dresser. How long had I slept? One day... two days? I probed the tightness at the base of my skull and felt the ache on my hips and shoulders as I stood. The dented outline of my body remained on the down-filled mattress. My black dress was now crumpled and my long braids in disarray. None of that mattered for the loud music.
The sound was abrasive, too loud, too... happy. I twisted the handle and wrenched my door free, taking a step toward the stairs. I glanced over my shoulder. Hansel’s door was ajar. The sight gave me a surge of hope.
My feet slapped the timber stairs. I gripped the ornate banister. My heart thundered, yearning to know, who was making that sound? The rowdy tempo blasted through the hall, coming from the music room.
Our servants stood in a row outside the ballroom entrance, staring open-mouthed into the room. My gaze skimmed the familiar faces, stopping at Sarah. She stood at the end, clutching a dripping rag in her hands. Drops splashed at her feet. I fought the need to call her name, to have her relay what waited for me inside that room. As my steps stilled at her side and I turned, I realized no words would do the sight justice.
My mother sat at the helm of the grand piano. Her head was down, smile radiant. Her fingers raced across the keys, pounding black, then white with a growing intensity as the music reached a fevered pitch. Hansel stood beside her, his smile not as wide. It was the sight of her that gave him happiness. His eyes never strayed from her face, his hand never left from her shoulder.
Mother’s fingers raced up and down the keys. Sweat gleamed on her forehead. My gaze dropped to the iridescent yellow dress. I winced at the color and touched the satin of my own midnight shift. Why is she not wearing black?
The thunder ended, although my head still rang with the sound. My mother sat there, head bowed, hands shaking. Hansel's hand on her shoulder rose under her harsh breaths. He turned, shining those wide hazel eyes on me. I was seized by his beauty.
His smile warmed me. “There you are. I was wondering when all this ruckus would wake you.”
I took a step inside, then stilled as I neared. “Are you both ill?”
She looked at me then—looked right through
me—as she answered. “We’re perfectly well. Come, join us. We’re having a party.”
The air turned thick and viscous. I swallowed hard. “A party?”
“Yes, a party. I. Am. Starving. I want a feast. Aren’t you hungry, darling?” She turned to my brother reaching up to graze the hard edges of his jaw with her fingers.
His eyes remained on me, glinting with madness. “Now that you mention it, I’m famished.”
“Good.” She slapped her hands together. “Then that’s settled. Food, drink. Maybelle! Oh, there you are. Ready some food and wine and have young Samuel come to my study. I’ll send out a few last minute invitations.”
Maybelle stepped forward, her hands fluttering to her skirt. “But, Madam.”
“Yes?”
The hard tone and the glint in my mother’s eyes made me shudder. There was something not right here, something I was missing.
Maybelle waited. She shifted her gaze from my mother to Hansel before she stepped backwards and muttered. “Nothing, Madam. I’ll have him sent to your study straight away.”
“Good. I have much to prepare.”
I watched my mother push the stool and and rise before she walked past, disappearing down the hall. Hansel followed, stopping only long enough to brush my cheek. Then, they were gone, leaving me and the rest of our house to stare after them.
“Stone the bloody crows,” Leonard muttered behind me.
The harsh clearing of a throat did little to ease the cold, dead feeling in the pit of my stomach. My world had shifted with word of my father’s death. Four had become three. A new axis needed to be found. Time. That was all they needed. Time to process, time to mourn. I clenched my hand into a fist. All we needed was time.
I hovered in the hallways and the rooms, watching the flurry of activity from afar. Mother penned the invitations and they were whisked away by Samuel. Maybelle had lit a fire under our cook and the clang of pots and pans filled the air. The silverware we’d so carefully polished three days before was set out along the immense dining room table. There was no room here for me in the vast rooms and endless hallways. There was no room for me in a world I didn’t understand. I needed a world that made sense.
I returned to my room and tugged on my boots. There would be time enough for bathing later. I needed the cold air on my skin and the scent of pine in my lungs. I needed my Ghost. I grabbed my small pack and walked to the wardrobe. I speared through the soft cotton underwear, digging until I grazed the hard weave, and pulled the clothing free. I rolled up the pants and shoved them into the pack before I made for the door.
The hallway was quiet as I slipped downstairs heading for the rear of the house. No one would notice my absence—they never did.
I found the the worn track. I knew this part of the forest just as I knew the lines on my palm. My vision blurred as my gait quickened. By the time I reached the welcoming arms of the branches, I was running, flying into the thicket and the moss. I scurried over fallen timber as though I were the deer that scouted the forest floor, or the wolves that hunted the deer.
The house disappeared behind me and I found solace in the loss. If I could only live out here, I’d be happy.
I’d become wild and savage.
I’d become the hunter, the survivor.
I’d be alone, but less lonely.
My lungs were on fire by the time I hit the stack of hollowed logs. Tears fell, blurring my steps as I dropped to the ground. This place had been our haven. A place where we could escape the grandness and the overbearing nature of our lives. My father and I had been one and the same. Cut from the same cloth, as Mother chided. But she’d been mistaken. We weren’t cut from any cloth. But we were sprouted from the same soil and protected by the same woods.
I yanked my boot laces tight, my fingers shook. I was desperate to unsheathe my skin and sink my toes into the earth. I kicked my heels free, moaning as I sank my toes into the icy moss. The snap of a branch had me spinning, searching the thick trunks and endless green. Again, broken twigs gave him away. I wiped my salty tears from my lip and smiled.
“I know you’re there, skulking in the background. Don’t you know it’s rude to spy on a lady?”
My furry consort cared not for etiquette, preferring the hunt instead. A flash of white set my feet in motion. I gathered my skirt and vaulted the timber, moving over the leaves and the slick rocks, finding motion where there had been none seconds before.
“I can see you. I can hear you.”
I chased the wolf deeper, stopping only for a thorn in my heel, then bounding off once more. Sunlight glinted through the crowded canopy, casting light in patches on the ground. I ran until my chest ached and my heart thundered in my ears. I dug my hand in my side, the cramp taking hold like a vice, and gripped a low-lying branch for support. “You’re too fast. I can’t keep up.”
He came to me then, skulking behind leafy ferns, dodging boulders to circle me. I could hear him sniff the air. Did he smell my sorrow?
A low keening sound answered. I found a sliver of strength. It was all I had left. “He’s gone. He’s stolen from us.” I stared into his piercing blue eyes. He crept forward slowly, as though he feared me. I lifted a trembling hand in the air.
“It’s me. Do you not recognize me?”
His lips drew back, revealing sharp teeth, telling me in no uncertain words, stay still. Do not move. I stood my ground as the beast edged closer. He was bigger than the grey wolves that hunted further north. They stayed clear from his home, keeping to the rocky outskirts, moving faster through the edges of the forest.
Like a specter, he somehow attached himself to me. Waiting for me day after day, year after year. Just like he waited for me now. His shoulder brushed my hips, coat rolling under his thick shoulders as he moved. I glanced at his paws and lifted my own hand, holding it out for him to scent. “It’s me, Ghost.”
I found his eyes as a shiver raced down my spine. He stole my breath with his arctic gaze, and stole my mind with his size. Another person would be terrified by the sight of him. The heat of his breath tickled the tips of my fingers. I held steady, unwavering in the presence of the beast.
The world slipped from my grasp. The forest was forgotten. My father was forgotten. All that remained in my world was the wolf and me.
He took a step. His steely gaze held me tight, not cruelly, but comforting. In a way, I could almost disappear in those eyes. Blue. The kind of blue that tainted the clouds in the midst of a summer squall. Icy blue, growing deeper, changing with an intensity that took my breath away.
With a whine the wolf lowered his head and dropped to the ground. I stayed still, frightened I’d tear away his focus—for he needed every ounce of determination. His fur moved, muscles rippled before the snap of bones shattered the air.
No matter how many times I witnessed the shift, I still felt the pain—I still felt the terror. His paws drew back, torso lengthened. The sharp edges of his face flattened to a hard jawline and full lips. His fingers clawed the ground and dug through the pine needles and the rocks, holding on to the earth while he changed one form for another.
My knees felt weak from the sight. I wanted to reach for him, but even the slightest touch would send him writhing in pain while his nerves settled and he returned to human form once more.
His artic fur rippled, pulling back from his smooth skin. Even under the frigid air he was left in a sheen of sweat. My fingers trembled as I reached for him, desperate to touch, yet terrified I’d cause him pain. He drew his knees toward his chest, curling his body while he slowly came to.
“I missed you.” The deep growl sounded half-wolf and half-human.
I traced his long legs and muscled thigh, lingering on the sweep of his perfect buttock and spun as he turned toward me. My heart was loud, too loud. Heat swept through my body, settling in my cheeks. I dug through my pack and yanked the pants free, shoving them into the air behind me as I whispered. “I missed you, too.”
My skin tingled wi
th his brush of his fingers against mine. I released my hold and waited, listening to the slid of fabric against his skin before he muttered. “Okay, I’m decent.”
In the space of one heartbeat to the next, I stumbled and turned, lunging for his open arms. I slammed into his chest and gripped his shoulders. He pulled me down atop the dirt and the pine needles. I inhaled the heady scent and my vision blurred. Daddy. There wasn’t a day where he hadn’t smelled of this place.
“I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I heard.”
“Where have you been?”
His eyes widened. I caught the sudden movement in his throat as he swallowed. “I’ve been working on a project.”
He was keeping something from me and had been for the last three. I wanted to probe for the answers, but my grief pushed everything else aside.
His hard body contoured around mine. The warmth melted the icy barriers I’d so carefully built. The words filled and swelled in the back of my throat. I could barely force them out. “I don’t understand. How could someone do that? How could someone do that to him?”
“I don’t know.” His hair tickled my cheek as he shook his head. “He was a good man.”
I nodded while the lump in my throat swelled. “I need him, Ghost. I need him...” to protect me from them.
His strong fingers held my face and he buried his nose into the side of my neck. His deep growl heated my ear. “Tell me what I can do to help you. Anything. I’ll do anything. Just say the words.”
My words were cold and distant. “Just hold me. Love me.”
He leaned back, long enough to slide his arm underneath me, rolling me to face him. I was caught in the sparkle of those familiar blue eyes. “Always.”
I held still while he leaned closer, until his warm breath tickled my lips. He was so careful, so tender. He was the wolf and the man, and he was mine. I lifted to meet the kiss and slid my hand along his back. His body engulfed mine, pressing my spine into the forest floor.
He kissed the corners of my mouth, then dipped to my chin. I arched my neck, submissive to the animal inside and felt his teeth graze my skin. One bite, that’s all it would take, and still, I knew that would never happen.
