“I miss you, Dad.” Medicine kit in hand, she grabbed a handful of rags stacked on the shelf and an old beach towel then left the room.
The wolf remained where he was. He looked dead. Marisol kneeled in front him. She lifted one heavy paw, three times as big as her smaller hand. She shook it a bit, looking for a sign that he was still alive. He didn’t respond. Man, where do you look for a pulse on a wolf? She pressed two fingers against the wolf’s neck. Nothing. Running her fingers through the wet, silky smooth fur, she tried to feel his chest. There. It was faint, but the heartbeat was definitely there.
“What the heck did you do, buddy?” Marisol grabbed the rags and wiped the blood off his shoulder. With the cut more visible now, Marisol shivered. “Oh my God! Poor baby. Someone tried to cut you in half.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the open wound. How could someone do this to him?
“Baby, were you caught trying to eat someone’s cat or bunny? I’ve been giving you food so you wouldn’t have to hunt for animals.” Tears blurred her vision. Her wolf had come to her, even in his dying state. Why? To say goodbye? Her fingers felt clumsy as she tried to open her father’s kit.
“Don’t die on me.” Marisol found the jar full of an inky black mixture that resembled petroleum jelly. As soon as she unscrewed the lid, the released scent of mint, marjoram, and beeswax reminded her of her father. She swallowed. No time to go maudlin, not right now. “Okay, I know this poultice by heart. Dad made this with my special touch. I’m not going to tell you about my contribution to this because it would only sound weird, even to a wolf like you. And to tell you the truth, I think it’s unnecessary. Now, personally, I haven’t used this on pets before so I don’t really know the effect it’ll have. Dad’s the vet, not me. He said this works on wolves. You’re a wolf. So I guess this should help you. It didn’t work on me because…you guessed it…right, I’m not a wolf. Although I think it would be nice to be one. Damn, times like this make me I wish I studied animal husbandry, instead of how to mold clay.” She sniffed and wiped her dripping nose with her forearm.
Darn it. Crying is not going to help this wolf.
“Okay, buddy. I’m applying this to your wound. Let’s hope Dad was right when he said this thing worked like magic.” She hoped it would work on a half-dead animal. Scooping a large goop, she spread it on the wound.
As soon as the black medicine touched the raw flesh, the wolf’s body nearly lifted off the floor as he let out a nightmarish howl. His head rose and he turned to look at her. Surprised, a soft gasp escaped Marisol’s mouth.
“Wow. That was fast.” Marisol smiled and was about to add more solution on the wound when the wolf crinkled his nose, baring his fangs. A low growl rumbled deep inside his throat. Marisol jumped back. “Nice wolfie. Just trying to help.” Good God. The medicine must felt like hot chili on his wound.
The wolf’s eyes went dark blue, but only for a few seconds. Like the reels of a slot machine, they changed to gray, to dark blue, and back to gray again. They reminded her of the eyes of dead people or zombies. Is he dead? Of course not. He wouldn’t be growling if he was. Oh so weird.
His fangs, although stained with blood, still gleamed. Saliva hung on both sides of his mouth like stalactites, suspended in stickiness. Without taking his freaky eyes off her, the wolf stood on all fours.
Marisol gasped. Terror gripped her heart. Lord, he’s going to eat me.
The wolf’s lips drew back, quivering, as he continued to snarl at her. His saliva slowly dripped on the floor. Marisol stared at the wolf’s elongated teeth. Was it her imagination or had his teeth grown longer?
Oh God, oh God. She tried to utter his name, but no sound came out of her mouth. “Wolf! Sit!” she finally said.
The wolf lowered his crinkled snout, snarling repeatedly.
“Please, buddy, don’t hurt me. This is Marisol. I’m just trying to help. Please. Don’t you recognize me?” Thankfully, the wolf stopped snarling. He blinked his freaky-looking eyes and they turned blue again. He swayed from side to side then dropped on the floor with a loud thud.
Oh. My. God.
Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Marisol stared at the wolf at her feet. Viciousness was gone from his face. He looked like an ordinary cuddly pet. Except he wasn’t. Her wolf had proven himself to be a deadly beast. She shook her hands to rid them of nervousness. No wonder Sheriff Davis didn’t like wolves. They were unpredictable and vicious. And what was that about his teeth? She would ask Sheriff Davis about it. Or maybe search the Internet for it.
Thunder echoed from a distance. The cold rain hadn’t let up. Marisol, already wet from the rain, trembled. Funny, she didn’t feel cold earlier. She looked at the prone shape of the wolf. “Well, buddy. I guess it’s good that you can move.” Quickly, she got up and shut the door. Leaning against it, she stared at the wolf. What the heck happened to him? He’d suddenly transformed into a big bad wolf with freaky eyes. She waited a minute to make sure the wolf wouldn’t wake, before cautiously kneeling in front of him again. The rise and fall of his chest told her he lived. Picking up the jar, she looked at it. Was her father talking literally or figuratively? Well, she didn’t need to know the answer. What mattered was it worked.
Marisol grabbed a strip of clean cloth and then lathered it with the goo. She was about to wrap it on the wound when she remembered her bat. She ran back to where she’d dropped it on the floor. “Okay, I’m going to bandage your wound to stop the bleeding. But don’t you dare snarl at me again, or I’ll smash your head in with this bat. God, I must be nuts for doing this.” With the bat in front of her, she kneeled on the floor. Praying the wolf would remain asleep and wouldn’t react to the medicine again, she squeezed the cloth underneath him and then wound it around his body. It wasn’t easy considering he weighed a ton. At least, he remained asleep. Thank God.
Marisol looked at the mess on the floor. She should take him to the clinic and lock the door. That way, when he woke, he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, not until she came up with an idea of what to do with him. “Got to move you, bud.” She unfolded the towel and placed it beside the wolf. “I’m gonna have to drag you.” Just like the bandage, she squeezed it beneath the wolf and then pulled it through to the other side until his whole body lay on top of it. “Boy, you don’t look fat, but you’re too dang heavy. Just hang on, buddy. I’ll take you to Dad’s clinic. You’ll be comfy there.” It would be best if she kept him inside until he was strong enough to go back to the woods. “God, what do you eat? Bricks?” Grunting, she pulled the towel. Her back ached from the wolf’s heavy weight, but she didn’t stop until she reached the end of the barn, where her dad’s clinic was located.
Thank God, Dad had built a small barn. He bought a barn kit for this purpose—to take wounded animals in. Just like what she was doing right now. He and Mom had used this even before she was born. Unlike other fancy barns she’d seen around, theirs was made out of red cedar and built in a pioneer style with a pitched roof, about eighteen feet high. The windows were made to replicate the small-paned wood windows style from a hundred years ago. And they were great. They brought in more light and added classic character to the the building. When she started with her pottery business, she took up half of the barn. It was perfect. The barn was connected to the main house. She loved it.
The wolf remained dead to the world. The amount of blood he lost must have weakened him. Too bad Dad wasn’t here to fix his wound. It was equally bad that she hadn’t learned her father’s profession. Poor thing came to the wrong person for help. “Sorry, buddy. Dad’s not here to help you.” Marisol ran her hands over the soft wet fur. Lithe, tall, and long, she’d never seen a wolf this big. What a beautiful creature. “Well, buddy, you’ll just have to stay here on the floor. I can’t lift you up on the bed. Besides, I don’t want to move you again. You might wake up and make me your next meal.”
She should call Sheriff Davis. He’d mentioned at the town meeting that if a wolf were sighted, it
should be reported. For the protection of the wolves and the residents both, he said. He was right. Maybe Sheriff Davis would help her take this wolf to the nearest vet.
Marisol peered at the wound. Unbelievably, blood wasn’t gushing out of his cut any more. Still, he probably needed stitches otherwise it would take forever to heal. An open wound this big could get infected. He should be in a real doggy hospital. And then she remembered her appointment with Mrs. Bode’s preschool class. “Drat.” The kids would be here at noon to look at her pottery barn. Canceling their field trip would only disappoint the kids. She wouldn’t want that. Marisol sighed. She’d met Mrs. Bode’s kids before. They were a rowdy, excitable bunch. It wouldn’t be good to have a wolf around, contained or not.
She’d witnessed how quickly this wolf could change from one cuddly-looking animal into a feral one. She shouldn’t take a chance. If her dad were here, he’d know what to do to keep the wolf sedated. Not her. She had no clue whatsoever on how to fix animals. As much as she wanted to keep him, he needed proper care. Yeah. She’d call Sheriff Davis.
Chapter Three
Sheriff Davis—a man in his sixties with a belly as round as her kiln and sausage-shaped fingers—walked into the barn. Smith Smithers, his trigger-happy deputy, limped behind him. Both men were soaked. Marisol noticed neither of them removed their plastic-covered hats or mud-splattered boots. They tracked dirt and water all over her floor.
“Glad you both came.”
“We have to respond to any calls about wolves right away, Marisol. No matter what the time.” Smithers grinned then patted his holster.
Marisol took a quick look at the deputy’s gun. Sure enough, it was cocked and ready. Lordy, he never learned. Deputy Smithers had been known to always have his gun ready when responding to a call. When someone asked him about it, he simply said, “You never know when someone’s going to jump at you.” Sadly for Smithers, the only time he’d pulled his gun out of its holster was to shoot a garden snake foolish enough to wander into his wife’s yard.
Marisol stepped away from Smithers when he walked by her. He’d already shot his own foot twice, which he claimed to be an accident. She thought it would be wise to stay away from the man. Just to be on the safe side.
“You said the animal’s in your bedroom?” Sheriff Davis asked in his commanding tone.
“Not my bedroom, Sheriff. He’s in Dad’s clinic.” She pointed at the second door at the far end of the barn.
“How did he get in?”
“I…um…left my front door open.”
“Stupid beast can get in anywhere.”
“He’s in there asleep. Oh, I should tell you, he’s wounded, so be careful.”
Smithers, who stood beside her, snickered. “Careful? One of them beasts killed John’s horse last week. I won’t be gentle with this one ‘cause I’ll bet my other foot this wolf won’t be gentle either when he tears my carotid artery.”
“John’s horse was old. He died from natural causes.” Marisol knew how and when John’s horse died. She’d been there when it happened. The poor thing had his snout in the trough and then he just dropped dead. The horse died of old age.
“Not what I heard.”
Marisol decided not to push the issue.
“I don’t know what made them come down from the Cascades. More and more of them have been spotted recently.” Sheriff Davis pursed his lips, as if he was looking at the dinner menu and couldn’t decide what to order.
“You know, Sheriff, this could be the one that killed and sucked Doctor Saint James—”
Sheriff Davis coughed. He speared his deputy with a look that could only mean shut up. “Okay then. Open that door, Smithers.”
“What if the beast wakes up, Sheriff?”
“Shoot it.”
“Gladly.” Smithers’s gun appeared in his hand in a matter of seconds.
Impressive, Marisol thought. She bet he’d empty his chamber on her wolf if given the chance. The thought made her heart drop all the way down to her toes. “Wait. Sheriff, you didn’t say anything about shooting the wolf. I thought...maybe we should wait for the Animal Control? They can keep him until he’s well enough to go back wherever he came from.”
“That’s the most stupid thing to do, if you ask me. Don’t get why we have to return these beasts to the wild when we know they’ll be coming back to eat our pets and wild deer. You know how the tourists like to see the deer. Did you hear the news the other day about a black bear that wandered inside a store? Them animals are trying to invade us.”
“I beg to differ, Deputy Smithers. I think it’s us invading their homes by mowing down the trees to build new houses. They were here first. We moved into their territories. That bear was just coming back to see his old home that developers must have destroyed.” Marisol lifted her chin a fraction. Those were her father’s words. Her dad always told her the animals had lived in this area long before people.
“You defend those animals? Isn’t it obvious one of them killed both of your—”
“Smithers will shoot only if it attacks us, Marisol. You said he’s asleep, so no, don’t worry. But if he suddenly wakes up, I’m sure he’s gonna be as mad as Old Ben whenever he runs out of cortisone for his knees.”
Deputy Smithers snorted.
Marisol knew it wouldn’t do her any good if she shoved the bat in between the deputy’s legs, so she imagined she was grinding the tip of it against his groin instead. Satisfied, she looked at Sheriff Davis. He was right. The wolf might wake up mad. Unlike Old Ben, though, her wolf wouldn’t use a stick to whack people when in a cantankerous mood. Marisol thought about the wolf’s lethal fangs. He could hurt Sheriff Davis or Deputy Smithers. Still, shooting him seemed barbaric. “I have a baseball bat. If he tries anything, you could hit his legs.”
“Don’t go soft on the beast, Marisol. It probably has rabies.”
“Rabies?” God, she hadn’t thought about rabies or diseases. She’d touched the wolf’s blood and wounds without wearing gloves.
“Wolves are wild. They eat God knows what.”
“Smithers is right. We’ll take care of the wolf. I suggest you step back, though. It’s better if you’re not standing behind me. Just in case.”
Marisol took one step back. Her eyes focused on the closed door. Stay asleep, buddy. She nodded at the officers then turned her back.
She’d only taken a couple steps when a loud crash rang in her ears. She turned around. Smithers had kicked the clinic door and it now hung from its lower hinge. Jesus, if the wolf were asleep, he’d be awake by now, she thought.
Gun drawn, the barrel pointing inside the room, Smithers took a step inside. “Holy carmudgeon!”
“Is it dead, Smithers?”
“Come take a look, Sheriff.”
Sheriff Davis stood beside his deputy and peered inside the room. “Lord Almighty.”
“He’s big. I wonder if that’s real.”
“Real or not, Smithers, it should be covered.”
“I had a hard time with him and I was in a hurry to call you. Covering him was the last thing I had in mind,” Marisol piped in. Please, please, God. Let him be okay. “Is he still asleep?” she asked, hope burning inside her chest.
“Yeah. Looks like he had a real workout. Must be awful tired. He didn’t even wake up. Jesus, I didn’t think that size really existed. Is that real?”
“Oh, believe me, Deputy Smithers…his growl when I touched him proved to me that he’s quite real.” She noticed the look the officers gave each other. Was that a blush on Sheriff Davis’s cheeks?
“What kind of a sick joke is this, Marisol?” Sheriff Davis turned to look at her.
With his eyebrows deeply furrowed, Marisol wouldn’t be surprised if the wrinkle remained permanent. As for his puckered lips, they looked like they belonged on a chicken’s butt. Marisol bit her lower lip to stop the smile that was beginning.
“We’re short-handed and there are always important calls coming in everyday. A joke like
this is not appreciated.”
Marisol sobered up in a hurry. “What? Why would I joke about this, Sheriff?”
Smithers cleared his throat. “Sir, it must be the effects of Mark’s death. She wants attention,” Smithers whispered, loud enough for her to hear.
Aghast, Marisol couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Smithers, I may still be in mourning, but I’m definitely not starved for attention.”
“Marisol, I lost someone dear to me two years ago. I understand what loneliness can do to a person. If you need someone to talk to, call my missus. Or attend the prayer healing every Sunday at the chapel. Please don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?”
Sheriff Davis shook his head. His eyes registered pity and disbelief. “I’ve known you since you were just a tot, Marisol, and I have respect for your parents—may their souls rest in peace—that’s why what happened here will not show up in my report. Is that right, Smithers?”
Deputy Smithers looked down at his boots. “Right you are, sir. No paperwork on this one. Fine with me. Time to clock out, anyway. Shelli’s cooking pot roast tonight.”
“Sheriff, I don’t understand. Why—”
“Marisol, please. Enough.”
Smithers covered his mouth with his fist and cleared his throat again. “Well, we should roll, Sheriff. My wife’s always available, Marisol. That is, if you need a shoulder to cry on.” He glanced at the door he’d just kicked open then shook his head. “Sorry about the door.”
What in the world? I don’t need a freaking shoulder. “I don’t care about the door. Aren’t you going to take him away?”
“Do you want us to?” Smithers asked with obvious surprise on his face.
“Well, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”
Sheriff Davis shook his head. “I do like to play games, Marisol, but not this kind. Make sure you lock your door. A real wolf might come in this time.”
Now, what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set Page 294
