AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You liberated her camp,” I mumbled, using my phone to snap several careful photographs of the ring. “She said you were with the American soldiers who liberated their camp.”
Gram had also said she never loved anyone more; I couldn't understand how she’d loved him at all. He murdered our family. He might’ve been a Nazi. Why else the deliberate placement of their emblem on his tongue to further curse his bones?
Dawn blushed in the eastern sky as I returned the rings and replaced the lid. The cheap batteries died in my flashlight. I did my best to fill the grave, adjust the marker and erase the disturbance. Being early spring, nature would fast overgrow my evidence.
Finished, I regarded the locust’s thorns and the swaying toxicity of weeds over rooted bones.
Wolf bones.
Wolf bones meant wolf blood.
What did they mean for me?
Wiping dirt on my jeans, I headed for the car and sped home to intercept the contractor and the installer for my new security system. A cruiser was parked in front; Caelan had anticipated my homecoming and sent someone to monitor the property.
Word had gotten out about my hospital stay. I arrived to a few Get Well Soon cards and a bundle of roses from Keith. I gave him a call, explained it was kind of him to think of me, but I would not be thinking of him going forward, and ended the call when his mother jumped on the line, having apparently been on speaker the entire time.
Mid-afternoon, with the walkthrough complete, I ripped the name off the roses and took them to the Vilkas residence. It seemed silly to think that seventy yards of woods separated the estate mansion from a neighbor who had tolerated a broken garage door since November.
The air reeked of apple blossoms and charcoal. Smoke thinned against the cloudless sky. Fewer vehicles were parked outside than before, but several voices rose above the orchard’s iron gates.
I made my way along a walkway lined with hyacinth and daffodils to a wrap-around porch. Wreaths adorned with bottlebrush rabbits hung over the double doors. Both had been draped in black silks. Floral arrangements crowded the Vilkas porch. Wondering if perhaps I should have brought a casserole instead, I rang the bell.
A boy answered, the one I'd seen holding Calico's hand. He stood a mighty two and a half feet tall, with a stern pout and narrowed brown eyes. A silver stud glittered in one ear lobe. He angled a plastic truck back in his hand, presumably to chuck at me, the stranger danger crowding his doorstep.
The perk of having a youngster answer meant I didn't have to peer around him to glimpse the magnificent interior. The entry featured marble floors, a grand staircase (worn, dirty carpet treads covered each step), several family photographs, abstract metalwork, and the striking yellows of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers painting.
Add to that assessment high ceilings, décor securely nailed to the walls, and an open-concept design, and the idea a smoke-tinged evening of fine liquor and werewolves wasn’t such a stretch to the imagination.
I lifted a hand, to both wave and get the flowers in a position better suited to deflect the toy. “Hi. I'm your neighbor, Marcy. I live in the light grey house. Is Calico home?”
“No.”
“Do you know when she will be?”
“No.”
I squatted on my aching calves to reach his level. Digging was bad enough; digging with stitches amplified the pain hours later as my muscles dropped off their adrenaline-fueled high. “Is there a grownup I can talk to?”
“No.”
“Your backyard sounds busy.”
A pause. His hand lowered, head turned back. “No.”
“You shouldn't be opening the door then,” I huffed. “Didn't your mom teach you about strangers?”
“No.”
“Is that all you know?”
“Be polite, Aiden.” Calico Finn sauntered into view in a pair of high heels and a pink silk robe. Flipping straightened hair over her shoulder, she took first the toy, then the frowning toddler, into her arms.
I creaked upright with the groan of an elderly woman. “’Afternoon, Calico.”
She laid a free hand on the hip opposite the kid. “Friends call me Cal.”
“‘Afternoon, Cal,” I corrected, eying her attire. “This a bad time?”
