Fawn opened one of the velvet boxes. “Oh, empty. Must be from yours,” she said, setting it aside and reaching for another one. “Um…”
I took it from her. “What? This one’s empty too?”
Fawn opened the third box and then closed it again with a click. “Yep. And this one.”
“That can’t be,” I said, taking it from her and flicking it open again. I stared down at the empty black velvet.
Worry knotted my stomach. Without the necklaces, not only would a tradition be ruined, but what if somehow, Dad’s letter had a thread of truth in it? Wasn’t that what most stories had? At least a tiny string of something real. If you followed it, you got to the full story. At least that was what I’d always been taught.
Fawn’s frown deepened. “You know what? I’ve been looking forward to getting that dumb necklace.”
I steadied myself and tried not to show my worry. I didn’t want Fawn to freak out. “They’re not dumb. It’s a weird family tradition, but it’s ours. And it’s important to Dad.”
“Yeah, must be real important if he took them with him,” Fawn said, setting the jewelry boxes back into place.
“Why would he do that?”
“Maybe he pawned them,” she said. “Uh-oh. If he did that, he really isn’t coming back.”
I didn’t correct Fawn. He’d never have pawned them, not for any reason. And, not to give credence to his letter’s wild claims, but the twins not having those necklaces might be bad. Really bad.
***
The nightmare was different that night. In this one, I found myself perched on a cliff, looking down at the valley. I could make out distant lakes and could see ribbons of creeks feeding the falls below. The hillside behind me was a honeycomb of caves. The moon harshly lit the landscape, slicing it into shadows and highlights. I heard rustling, someone or something coming.
Preemptively, I launched into air from the flat rock, gliding into the trees. Not flying, not falling, but a motion in between. I touched down on a carpet of pine needles and soft dirt and then sprang up to my full height.
I knew this forest. I’d seen it before in a dream. I spun in a circle, searching for the source of the feeling that I wasn’t alone. Sure enough, the dark wolf with silver blue eyes waited on the nearby trail, taking stock of me.
I froze, my skin rippling with fear, fight, or flight taking hold. I considered my escape routes. Thick bushes to either side, an equally dark path behind me. What had I done before in these woods? I couldn’t remember.
The wolf stalked toward me. I prepared to run. But then, I heard a high-pitched sound, followed by yips and then the sound of trees shaking with the movement of more animals. A keening chorus struck up, wails turning into howls. More creatures, and they sounded close. The wolf paused its advance and cocked its head. Its hackles rose on the back of its neck. Turning, it ran off into the brush, toward the eerie sounds.
I scrambled in the direction the wolf had blocked. Moss formations, cedar trunks, downed branches, sword ferns formed the rough terrain alongside, but I found steady footing in the soft dirt. There was enough moonlight to light my way forward and keep me from tripping on the occasional rock and exposed root. I had no sense of direction except the feeling that I was running in the opposite direction of the dark wolf. The howling continued in the distance, hastening my steps.
At last, my toes touched a smooth stone, and then another. Markers of a manmade trail. I could smell the faintest woodsmoke on the breeze. Civilization. My steps grew quicker. There had to be help ahead.
As the path rounded a bend, I heard a huffing, growling sound. I looked up to see a scraggly gray wolf perched atop the trunk of an enormous fallen cedar. He snarled at me, his teeth yellowed but sharp.
In the distance, the symphony of howls built to a crescendo. The wolf jumped onto the path and contemplated me, teeth bared. The calls in the distance ended abruptly. I backed up slowly, checking around me for exit options. Rugged terrain sprawled on either side of the trail. Perhaps I’d have to run back in the direction I’d come from. I inhaled deeply, preparing to turn.
Suddenly, I heard growling behind me. I didn’t need to look over my shoulder to know I was trapped from both sides.
In desperation, I raised my head and screamed at the moon. My voice came out in a peculiar strangled sound. I screamed again, this time at the horror of the first cry. Then I collapsed and huddled in a ball on the ground, awaiting the pain that was sure to come next.
***
I spent the next day trying to keep from falling asleep in my classes. Even the twins noticed I wasn’t feeling well and suggested I go home sick. But I stayed put. I was exhausted, but I needed everything to be normal. And I didn’t want to close my eyes.
Every time I did, I saw the scary gray wolf from my dream, his menacing eyes. I flashed on Dad’s wording, the seriousness of the tone as he’d written the word wolves. I couldn’t help feeling my nightmares were connected, but it still seemed crazy. Dad may have been hiding something, but it couldn’t be that we were monsters.
And I was sure he wouldn’t have run off and left us to fend for ourselves, or even sold our necklaces. If there was one thing I knew it was that he loved us. He’d made that clear. Even his overprotectiveness had to have come from a good place. He’d been the only family we had, and that made him try harder.
Of course, it would’ve been nice to have a mother around, but Dad had done his best to compensate. One time in middle school, I’d cut my own bangs. Badly. Dad had found me in our bathroom, crying, a jagged fringe across my forehead. He’d calmly taken the scissors and helped me even out the mess. Not once had he made me feel stupid for things like that. He’d helped me make the best of my bad decisions. Always.
As I calculated my next steps, I thought of the assurance Dad seemed to give Mom in the letter—that the North family were our Protectors. Well, that didn’t seem like good news considering Cooper North had been such a huge jerk the other night. At some point, I’d have to get Cooper to talk to me. I was sure he’d tell me Dad made it all up. That he didn’t know anything about this fantasy.
But first, I stopped by the law office of Jones and Richland, on a side street near the center of town. I only had a short window before my shift started at the coffee shop, so I hoped my visit with Mr. Jones would be quick.
“Hey, I missed you at lunch today,” my friend Alicia said, getting up from behind the reception desk. I envied that her part-time job was helping her dad instead of making lattes. But, then again, it seemed pretty dreary in the place. A couple of antique lamps flanking a striped couch made a weak attempt to light the wood-paneled lobby. The house plants in the corner twined toward the front windows, desperate for the tiniest bit of daylight.
“Yeah, I wasn’t hungry. I hung out in the library looking at maps.”
“Any news on your dad yet?” Alicia offered me a seat on the couch, then joined me. Above her dark brown eyes, her expertly arched brows drew together with concern.
“Nothing yet.” I could smell the coconut-vanilla lotion on her skin, though we weren’t sitting that close. It was a hand-crafted brand she bought at a tiny store in Olympia, when her father had a case that took him to the state capitol. That, along with her hair smoothed into a ballerina bun when she didn’t have it braided, was signature Alicia. Put together and unique.
We’d drifted apart since Kyle and I had started dating last year, but since she’d signed up for journalism this semester, we were working on the school newspaper together. Being around her more in class reminded me of how close we’d once been—all those sleepovers in middle school. How much fun we used to have hanging out.
“If there’s anything I can do,” she said, giving me a half-smile. “You just say the word.”
“Thanks. Is your dad around?”
Her smile faded a little. “Oh, yeah, let me check and see if he’s available. I didn’t realize you were here on business.”
“I mean, I’m glad to see yo
u, too,” I said, realizing I probably should’ve mentioned her dad up front. “There’s just this thing about no parent in our house. I may have to petition family court.”
“Whoa,” she said. “I’ll get him.”
A few minutes later I sat in front of a big oak desk. Mr. Jones, tall and thin like Alicia, squinted at me through thick-framed black glasses that gave him a hipster vibe.
“Your father updated his will and a few other papers two years ago,” he said, passing me a manila folder. “At that time, he also filled out a temporary parental consent agreement naming you as a guardian when you came of age. There’s an alternate, Mr. Ivan North, in the event you were still a minor. I don’t want to suggest that he was paranoid, so I’ll deem him organized.”
“Wait—so while Dad’s missing, my sisters can’t be taken away?” I was surprised that Dad had already thought ahead for this possibility, but also very relieved.
“Yes. For now, you’ll be protected temporarily with this agreement. Call me if anyone gives you trouble. I’ll work on the petition for non-parental custody in case George doesn’t turn up. Let’s hope it doesn’t get that far.”
“I don’t know how we can pay,” I admitted.
“We’ll figure that out,” he said. “You concentrate on caring for your sisters. And your search.”
I hugged the folder to my chest. “Thank you. Finally, some good news.”
“You’re lucky he was thinking ahead,” Mr. Jones said, nodding. “Very prepared in case of emergency. I wish all my clients were like him. In that folder, you’ve got a copy of the agreement, and there’s something else—a sealed letter addressed to you.”
I rose from the chair, my stomach quaking a little. So far, envelopes from Dad weren’t exactly good news. Or even sane news, for that matter. I thanked Mr. Jones again and headed out.
Alicia stopped me in the lobby. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. Of course, you’d be here to talk to my father. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s fine.” I hugged her. “You were thinking that maybe I haven’t been the best friend to you lately. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
She seemed surprised, a little stiff in my arms, but she said, “I’m here for you.”
“Thanks. There’s a search party this weekend. Maybe you can come?”
“I’ll be there,” she said, smiling as the hug broke up. “And I’ll bring people.”
I left the law office feeling a little more optimistic. At least until I opened the envelope before my barista shift.
Dear Lily,
If you’re reading this, then something’s happened to me. You must take care of the twins. The North family will offer you protection. Go to them first if you can. If there’s no assistance to be found there, call the number below. They will help.
Love always,
Dad
I stared at the note. Nothing about wolves. Nothing.
But there was an 800 number at the bottom of the letter. No name, no clue to indicate what it led to. I thought about Cooper North, about how rude he’d been the other day. He didn’t seem like a first good option.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number. It rang and rang, but finally someone picked up the other end of the line said, “Yes?” I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, but the voice was smooth, practiced.
“My father left this number in case of emergency. George Turner?” I could’ve sworn I heard the person on the other end of the line sigh. “He’s disappeared,” I added.
“Last known whereabouts?”
“Pioneer Falls, Washington.”
“Thank you.” The line went dead.
I frowned at the quick exchange, had thought they might have required more information, but it was done.
“And now what, Dad?” I asked, as if he could hear me. I’d followed the directions in his envelope, mostly. In retrospect I probably should have forced Cooper North to talk to me, to tell me what he knew before I’d gone for Dad’s emergency option. But I was doing the best I could.
I had no idea I’d summoned something that would change my life. Or rather, someone.
***
I made it through the next day at school somehow and though I probably could have canceled on Maggie, I turned up for my normal shift at the coffee shop. At the sink in the back, I donned my red apron and swirled my hair up into a topknot. Work was good. I wanted to stay busy. Dad was still missing, Kyle was still giving me the cold shoulder at school, and I hadn’t heard anything from the mysterious number I’d called. Nothing was going right.
I tested out a smile in the mirror. It didn’t feel genuine, but it was the best I could do.
“Hey, sunshine. Any news yet?” Maggie asked, marking her weekly inventory sheet with checkmarks representing the cases of paper cups and baking supplies.
“Not really,” I replied.
“Well, hopefully he’ll be home soon.”
I tried out that smile again and then straightened up the counter. The shop itself was pretty clean, though the bus tubs were full enough to bring back to the dishwasher.
Kicking off a small rush a little while later, an old guy in a faded denim jacket came in and handed me a Thermos. I passed it off to Maggie for a fill-up and collected his money. I took a couple latte orders next and handed the cups to Maggie with our complicated marking system checked. Soy, almond milk, we had everything. Any coffee shop in the Northwest has all the options these days.
“Sorry to bother you at work. The twins said you’d be here,” Sheriff Polson said, stepping up to the register. She dug in her pocket for her wallet.
Maggie handed her an oatmeal cookie. “On the house.”
“Awful nice of you. I’ll take a latte, too,” the sheriff said, handing me some bills. “I came by to let you know we’ve officially moved your dad’s case to Missing Person status. I know I intimated this was a personal problem, but he’s never been gone this long. We’re concerned.”
I exhaled. “Thank you. You don’t know how glad I am to hear that.” I passed her the change.
As the sheriff left, Maggie gave me a pat on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded, resetting my smile for the next customer.
“Do you have a favorite?”
I looked up into eyes the color of amber and a wave of dark hair, pulled loosely behind one ear. The guy standing at the counter had to be some kind of tourist. His brown leather jacket was vintage, weathered, and a thick green scarf wound around his collar. I couldn’t tell if the fine stubble along his chin was by design or by accident.
“Sorry?” I mumbled.
“The pastries,” he said again, this time, adding a smile. “Lily,” he added.
“Yes.” I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Um, how did you?”
He pointed at the flowery name tag on my apron.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
“Again? That’s twice,” he said, flashing me a smile that made me forget my embarrassment.
I felt like I should know him, like he was some kind of actor or something. I’d never seen him before, yet he seemed so familiar. I placed his age at a couple of years older than me. Young but with an intelligent, old-soul look in his eyes. “Delicious,” I murmured, then realizing I was staring at him like a dope, straightened my back. “The scones are delicious. Very popular.”
“Brilliant. I’ll take your favorite flavor and a drip coffee in a takeaway cup.” His voice was low, richly toned but with a gravelly edge. I heard an accent in there, something close to British but different. The kind of accent that made me want to listen to him say things, anything.
“Name?”
“I guess it’s only fair since I know yours,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
I smiled back. “For your coffee order.”
“It’s Morgan.”
“Suits you,” I said, writing his name on a cup and ringing up the tab.
He h
anded me some worn dollar bills that had seen better days. I smoothed them and counted out his change from the drawer, but Morgan had already taken a seat near the window. He pointed to the nearly empty tip jar. I dropped the coins into it, grinning.
“You okay?” Maggie said, taking the cup from the counter to start the order. “I may be a middle-aged lady, but even I can appreciate a young hunk like that,” she added in a whisper.
“Did you use the word hunk?” I asked. “Who says that?”
“I’m sorry. I meant Morgan,” Maggie said, squinting at the name on the cup and filling it with strong black coffee.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grabbed a blueberry scone from the bakery case and slid it on a plate. I debated whether or not to warm up the scone, since I’d forgotten to ask, but decided against it. I added a pat of butter and a honey packet to the plate, our normal accompaniments.
Maggie held out the coffee and smiled broadly at me. “The line’s died down. Why don’t you deliver this yourself.”
I sighed. “I do have a boyfriend, but fine. Old people always torture the young, don’t they?“
“C’mon, it’s fun,” Maggie said with a wink.
Morgan looked up from the shop’s copy of the newspaper on his table as I approached. I offered him the plate and cup. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, Lily,” he said.
I felt something unpin inside of me at the way he said my name. Something tumbling down. Something falling away. My hand shook and the scone nearly slid from the plate, but Morgan caught it in time.
“Clumsy,” I said, setting the coffee down before I spilled it too.
“No worries.”
“I brought you blueberry,” I said, then regretted how dumb it sounded. I steadied myself by holding onto the back of the empty chair at the table, while my other hand reached for my pendant.
“That’s perfect.” He took a bite.
“Oh, good.” I liked the way his smile affected his whole face, even his eyes. Gazing into them, I had the sensation of falling through nothingness, plummeting into a deep dark space where gravity didn’t exist. I couldn’t look away from those amber eyes and the way they sparkled.
A Curse So Dark (Pioneer Falls Book 1) Page 5
