Page 65 of The Lone Wolf Café
I reached the window, pressing my sharp fingernails against the glass. It was cool and frosty to the touch, the slightest bit of condensation dampening my fingertips. The voices were still hushed and faint, but I was able to pick out a few details of their conversation.
The man wasn’t from Wisteria Grove. He also wasn’t a witch.
And he definitely wasn’t supposed to be here.
But who is he?
I had to choose my next move carefully. I couldn’t simply march over there and intrude on their conversation, demanding to know what deep, dark secrets Rowena held. Especially now I knew she was – I gulped –dangerous.
It was still a hard concept to fathom. All I could think about was those big brown eyes, her soft little laugh, and the way she’d hugged me next to the fire. It lulled me into disbelief. Denial. She couldn’tpossiblybe dangerous.
I pressed my weight into the tips of my toes, elevating me just enough to see Rowena’s backyard. There was a hip-height fence surrounding a small garden bursting with foliage, just like the one behind the café. Every bush, root, and vine were ripe with fresh produce, from blueberries to potatoes, despite the fact it was mid-autumn. Even plants that didn’t normally grow well in Maine had no trouble in Rowena’s garden, thanks to her chloromancer magic.
But within that garden, merely a dark silhouette against the backdrop of foliage, was a middle-aged man. His figure was cloaked in shadow, but I could tell he was wearing jeans and a thick flannel shirt. When he turned his head toward the light of Rowena’s black porch, I saw a pale face with a bent nose and thinning salt-and-pepper hair. He had a thick beard the same color as the hair on his head: black flecked with white. Like snow on dark soil.
Rowena stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed and one foot pressing against the wall. It was too dark for me to read her facial expressions, but her posture indicated she was annoyed. She was silent as the man rambled on and on, occasionally offering a nod of her head.
Then, the man stopped talking and waved his hand, as if gesturing for her to follow him. To my shock and horror, she did. She closed the back door to her cottage, locked it tight, and trudged through her garden and out into the forest. I watched as the two of them walked, side-by-side, until they disappeared out of the corner of my window.
My jaw nearly fell open in disbelief.Who is he? Where is he taking her?
I flared my nostrils, taking in a large gulp of air.In through your nose, out through your mouth.Just like Rowena had taught me.
I had to keep control of my mounting panic. If I was going to investigate where they went, I needed to not have my ears and tail pop out in the process.
I turned away from the window. Aria was sleeping on her doll-sized bed, her swirling tornado of a body dulled to a light breeze. I sighed, willing her toplease stay asleep, as I crept out my front door and slowly clicked it shut behind me.
Even though Rowena and the strange man were gone, I felt like a deer caught in headlights. Like someone – or something –would pop out at any moment. I peered up at the dark canopy of trees, the soft yet blindingly white glow of the almost-full moon illuminating my green eyes.
Normally, I loved nighttime, especially when the moon was out. To werewolves, it symbolized freedom. Rebellion. Embracing our wild nature.
But tonight, I felt less like a big scary wolf and more like a meek little rabbit, twitchy and nervous and well aware of how vulnerable I was. If Rowena and the strange man returned and saw me outside, I could be in a heap of trouble. A rabbit clamped between a wolf’s jaws.
She’s dangerous.
I shook those two harrowing words out of my head and stepped forward.
Outside my cottage, nothing looked unusual. There was a heavy breeze, strong enough to creep under my cloak and make my skin prickle, but the air was silent. No crickets, no frogs, no elementals.
And definitely no werewolves.
I took a few steps forward, studying the exterior of Rowena’s cottage. Its silhouette was as dark as mine in the gloomy night sky, but as I got closer, I noticed something that made my blood chill in my veins.
There were footsteps imprinted in the thick carpet of autumn leaves. Two sets.
They both led to Rowena’s front door.
Which had the tiniest sliver of a crack, like someone had forgotten to close it all the way.
I thought back to Rowena locking her back door before she left. Maybe she’d simply forgotten to lock the front one as well.
Or maybe, because she and I were so isolated on the edge of the village, she didn’t expect anyone to come looking for her.
Especially not me.
My hand shook as I reached for the door handle. It was cold under my palms, the metal chilled by the strong winds and low nighttime temperatures. It sent a deep tingle through my nerves, like I’d been stuck by static electricity.
Rowena had never let me inside her home, and she always kept the curtains drawn so no one could see inside. The only glimpse I ever had into her home life was her dark silhouette, illuminated by her faerie fire lanterns, sipping tea and reading books in the evenings.
