Page 66 of It's You
“It was good. Really, really good,” Willow murmured, looking up at the full moon out the window. “One of the better cups I’ve ever had in my life.”
Darcy grinned, tapping the spoon lightly on the ice cream cover.
“So,” said Willow, turning back to Darcy. “Why didn’t you call me back?”
“What do you mean?”
“I called you this afternoon. After I talked to myNohkom. I was sure you’d call me back right away.”
“Nobody ever calls me. My phone probably died sometime on the ride. What’d she say?”
“Well, I was wrong. Thereisa binding legend. But it’s not Métis. I mean, it is, but it’s not.”
“Should I feel this confused?”
“Ready for a freaky Métis legend?”
“I guess…” Darcy recognized the ghost-story tone of Willow’s voice and knew she was in for one of GrannyNohkom’s whoppers.
“Long, long ago, the French settlers came across from Europe, and with them, hidden on their ship, they brought aterriblecreature. A werewolf. A full-blooded wolf creature, who roamed the woods of France for his victims, had snuck himself onto a ship bound for Canada.
“When the ship got there, the werewolf ran to the great north to hide and hunt, kidnapping four Abenaki sisters on onedark, full-moonednight. The oldest of the four, who was wisebeyond her years, begged that the creature not kill them and promised him something more precious in return.
“Nine months later, each bore a child. The children looked like Indian babies until they each cut their teeth on the full moon, howling and fearful, and the mothers realized that theyhad each borne a monster. They took the children into the woods and left them there, abandoned to the elements.
“The Métis believe that the four children survived, growing into horrible creatures they called Roux-ga-roux. Unlike their Indian mothers or werewolf father, they lived in a state of half-creature. They appear as humans for most of the moon cycle, but at the full moon, they shift back intobloodthirsty creatures, skinwalkers who hunt like their father for three…full…days.
“The skinwalkers have razor-sharp fangs, long, yellow claws, the face of a wolf, eyes that burn,and the strengthof ten men. They carry little children off in the dead of night and eat their flesh, for the Roux-ga-roux canneverhave enough human flesh. It wants it. Itcravesit. Its fangs drip with the blood of its victims.”
Willow was having trouble maintaining her composure, her lips trembling as she held back laughter. She cleared her throat and resumed her storyteller’s voice.
“And here’s the part you’ve been waiting for…
“Becauseno onebut another Roux-ga-roux could ever love such a hideous, abominable creature, they must mate with one of their own. So they are bound on the eve of their eighteenth birthday, one Roux-ga-roux to another, and spend their lives together hunting, killing…and mating.”
Willow stopped for a moment, her laughter finally getting the better of her. When she finally looked back up at Darcy, her eyes were glistening.
“Nohkomdidn’t actually say that part about the mating. I thought I’d add it. Oh! But she did have a caveat to the legend. Apparently, the Métis are safe from the creature. The Métis race was started when French trappers married indigenous women, and the Roux-ga-roux race started when a French werewolf mated with Abenaki women. So even though they are different, they are both races of mixed blood who share the northernwoods. By tacit agreement, the Métis don’t hunt the Roux-ga-roux, and the Roux-ga-roux leave the mixed-blooded Métis in peace. They hunt the white man instead.
“Nohkomsaid that you should listen at the full moon, and you’ll hear the howling cry of the Roux-ga-roux. Oh-oh-oh-Oh-Oooooooooooooooo! Oh-oh-oh-Oh-Oooooooooooooooo!”
Willow howled like a wolf, then grinned at Darcy.
“You knowNohkom. She always had a flair for drama.”
Darcy stared at Willow, then took a deep breath, clapping quietly. “Well done, Mistress Storyteller. But not so helpful. Did she say anything about a Métis sub-culture that fashions their marital beliefs on this…Roux-ga-roux legend?”
“Nope. She’d never heard of any of the tribes practicing binding. But you said that Jack mentioned the woods north of Quebec? That’s a big area. I guess it’s possible one of the tribes up there takes the legends a little more literally? Who knows?” She leaned forward and kissed Darcy’s cheek. “I’m tired. I’m headed to bed.”
Darcy nodded, feeling deflated. She’d hoped that Willow’s grandmother would have some sweet story about a small sub-tribe that practiced wildly romantic notions about true love and first kisses. Instead, she’d gotten an old Métis ghost story about werewolves, kidnapping, rape, child endangerment, and death.Great. Thanks a lot, Nohkom.
She sighed in frustration. And she still had no answers to explain the soul flight, the eyespeak, and losing hours of her life every time she was around Jack Beauloup.
Darcy had looked forward to Thursday with a sharp longing, desperate to jump into Jack’s arms and love him all weekend long. Now, they’d be retreading old ground as she demanded answers, and he sidestepped questions. Well, not this time. This time, she wouldn’t be distracted by his beautiful body and hot, wet, toe-curling kisses. She would have her answers, or Jackwould not have her. The longer she waited, the longer he’d wait. She’d get to the bottom of their connection. Her life—her heart—depended on it.
13
Darcy didn’t actually know when Jack was returning from Quebec on Thursday, but she woke up earlier than usual on Thursday morning, buoyant, hopeful, and relieved that what felt like a very long separation would be over as of that evening.
