Page 5 of Howl You Doin?
“You should be grateful she didn’t poison you instead,” I retort, my gaze traveling over the gray-and-blue papered walls as I stride along the hallway, my shoes clacking on the parquet flooring.
“It should arrive in the next few days,” he continues as if I’ve said nothing. It isn’t unusual for Jekyll to forward any of his new experimental remedies for just about anything my way, but it has been a while.
I hesitate. “What’s the sample for?”
“Your chef problem. I packed a new vial for you to try because last month you mentioned you were having some aggression to her smell.”
Whitley. At just the thought of her name, it’s as if her scent comes back to haunt me full force, sugary sweet with a hint of spice. It makes my skin crawl and the hair raise on the nape of my neck. It is seemingly everywhere now.
The second she stepped foot inside the castle, she put me on edge and made my temper erupt constantly. I’d forgotten I told Jekyll anything about it.
I awkwardly adjust the phone on my shoulder to open the door to my room. “What will it do?”
He clears his throat. “It’s a very mild sedative thatshouldput you into a relaxed state so that her scent has less of an impact.”
“You don’t sound certain,” I point out, toeing off my shoes and letting my feet sink into the soft carpet of my bedroom as I drop my bag to the floor.
“I’m certain it can’t hurt.”
The smell of stale air floods my nostrils from the room being closed for so long. My gaze travels around the space and my lip curls.
Nothing has been moved since I left, and the massive bed is still turned down, the blue coverlet and sheets I slept in still unmade. The large wooden wardrobe on one wall is open with clothes hanging about from where I tossed what I could in a duffle before chasing Vlad down. I am going to have to hire a different cleaning service for some of the wings. Vlad will lose it entirely if I suggest the human crew enters his apartments.
I sniff deeply at the air and my nose twitches as her scent hits it. “Two weeks and the smell of her still lingers. I’ll try the stuff, anything to keep it from getting to me.”
“Sounds like it could be a perfume issue. What do you mean two weeks?” he asks, as my keys clink together when they land on the nearby solid-oak dresser, along with my wallet. “You left the castle?”
I groan inwardly and my teeth grind in my mouth as I unbutton my suit jacket. “Yes. I left the castle.”
“Ha. Good on you, then. Can’t say I’m not shocked that Vlad didn’t expire without you,” he says around chuckles.
Speaking of Vlad, no one will ever believe it. “You can’t say a bloody word to anyone about this,” I tell him, swearing him to secrecy. “No one, Jekyll.”
“Who would I tell other than Hilda? And she doesn’t talk back. Although, I have tried every way I can to engage her in conversation.” He scoffs, and then his tone turns whiney and petulant. “I thought we were making headway with the sandwich.”
“I’ve told you repeatedly she only ever speaks to Vlad and does not eat. What did you think was going to happen? That she would welcome you into her bony arms and turn cook extraordinaire overnight?”
“Oh, come off it. She’s amazing and anyone with eyes can see it,” he says, as if it is truly inconceivable that someone would be put off by her appearance.
I grimace as I toss the phone to the bed, listening to him on speaker while I undress.
Jekyll has been infatuated with Hilda, obsessed even, since learning of her existence. Only the gods know why she chose to leave with the idiot. Jekyll is an eccentric, creative genius, but his methods are unorthodox to say the least. While he is a solid friend, I can’t see any female being able to put up with him for any length of time, even a skeleton.
“Go on, then. Why did the wolf boy leave the castle?” The sound of slurping rings through the speaker, and I groan.
“You will never believe what happened. Vlad found his mate.”
“Ah, yes, the human. She’s pretty enough I suppose, his smell was certainlyallover her,” he says, his tone going up an octave. “Frank was livid.”
I freeze midway through undoing my slacks. “When did you meet Aubrey?”
The phone goes silent.
“Dammit, Jekyll,” I spit out. “Did you help Frank take her?”
“Well, umm.” His voice sounds pained. “No?”
“Vlad is definitely going to kill you,” I say, irritated that he would allow it—he must have if he met Aubrey that night.
