Garoul: Silver Collar Part 10

"Em. Have you seen my gla.s.ses?"

"No." Emily had to work hard not to snap back her answer.

"Can't find my car keys either. Can't find a danged thing without my gla.s.ses," Norm muttered to himself more than Emily, and went back to shoveling around inside the kitchen drawers, his nose inches from the opening, squinting in at the jumbled contents.

Emily was having enough frustrations of her own. Her own reading gla.s.ses had gone missing. There was a trail of hairclips all the way down the stairs, and another pair of shoes had disappeared. A quick look around the garden did not produce any clues as to what Wilbur had done with them. They were well and truly hidden.

"What about my wallet, Em? Did you see my wallet anywhere yet?" Norm asked for the umpteenth time.

"No." She did snap this time. "Stupid dog's a magpie. I can't find anything."

"Dang," Norm muttered again, and shuffled off to water his vegetable patch with his danged dog in tow while Emily stomped back upstairs to put away the laundry.

"Em?" Another holler followed her up the stairs. "There's clothes missing off the line. Did you bring any in?"

"I'm putting the laundry away now," she called back, disinterested. Without his gla.s.ses, she was surprised he could even find the clothesline. The whole house is in an uproar since that stupid dog arrived. She lifted the clean laundry from the foot of her bed and took it to the dresser. It was madness to bring him here. I should have taken him straight to the pound. She yanked open the top drawer. Lord knows how much of our stuff is buried in the garden. If I ever- Emily froze. Her sweater drawer was in chaos. She picked up a woolen Aran sweater. It had been a favorite. Now it was in tatters. A huge hole gaped at its side, and broken threads of yarn stuck out in all directions. It looked as if a great white shark had taken a bite out of it.

A quick rummage showed that nearly all her sweaters had been damaged in some way or another, either holed with huge chunks missing or plucked to bits as if a million chickens had attacked them. Emily slammed open the next drawer and found the same carnage in her underwear drawer. Everything had been folded away but now lay in an unruly mess, tattered and torn. This was not the dog's doing. Emily's blood ran cold. Something had been snooping in her room. Throughout the whole house in fact! Was it a Garoul after the almanac?

"Em! Em!" Norm's shout brought her to the top of the stairs anxious that something awful had happened.

"What? What is it?"

"There's a goose on the doorstep," he called up.

"A goose? Is it dead?"

"Of course it's dead."

"Well, did the dog kill it?"

"It's bigger than the dog."

"The d.a.m.ned squirrel was almost as big as the dog and he killed it."

"Well, okay then." With that, Norm turned around and wandered outside again leaving Emily on the verge of tearing her hair out. We're all going mad.

She went back to her room to recheck her desk. Uncle Norm said he'd picked up her books when they'd toppled over. Emily riffled through her collection. No books were missing. Nevertheless, she was relieved she had already removed the almanac to safety. But her reading gla.s.ses were gone, and now she noticed her pen, the gold one Uncle Norm had bought her for graduation, was not where she'd left it. What the h.e.l.l was going on? Why were things going missing? And why were other weird things appearing, like dead geese and squirrels?

Emily sat on the edge of her bed and tried to arrange her thoughts. She sniffed. There was a musky, foxy sort of smell. She checked the soles of her boots. Nothing. She sniffed again. It was still there, definitely an earthy, muddy sort of...oh no! Emily buried her nose in the bed sheets and breathed deeply. No! It couldn't be. She pulled back her bedclothes to find a second dead squirrel and several acorns. Werewolf gifts! Luc's werewolf gifts.

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d's been in my room." She couldn't believe it. "In my house. In my uncle's house!" And the sneak thief had pilfered its way from room to room stealing anything that caught its fancy. It was all so obvious. She recalled Luc's bizarre habits of acquisition; her little piles of loot, her need to grab at anything that caught her eye. Rage streaked through Emily like h.e.l.lfire. How dare she come into my home and steal from my family!

She reached under her s.h.i.+rt to touch the silver key where it nestled on her chest. Her hands shook. She'd hidden the almanac and burned her notes. The only link left was the key to the collar. That had to be what Luc was after. Emily had to thwart her and hide it. She had to hide it well, in a place Luc would never want, never mind think, to look.

A snuffle came from the doorway and an inquisitive Wilbur stuck his nose through the gap and pushed the door open all the way. He came into her room slowly, as if aware he should not be upstairs. Emily noticed Uncle Norm had been gifting the dog again. He wore a brand new collar. She knelt and held out her arms.

"Come here, boy. Who's a good boy?" she crooned. "I need your help with something."

Seconds later, Emily wandered over to the window. She was more relaxed now. Her problems were piling up and she was dealing with them as best she could, one by one. But the biggest problem was still out there. She glared at the forest. Somewhere out there Luc Garoul was laughing at- Something was wrong with her RV! Emily zoned in on her vehicle. Something was different. She had parked it under the big cedar. The narrow driveway only had room for Norm's truck so she used the clearing beyond the house. And she knew she hadn't left the side door open a crack. And she knew she hadn't pulled down the back window blind either, especially not at that lopsided angle!

Emily tore down the stairs and out to the driveway that ran by the side of the house. She stopped beside her RV and had a quick look around the yard for Norm. He was nowhere to be seen, probably back inside opening up his store for the afternoon. She wanted him well out of the way.

The paintwork on the side door of her RV was scored around the handle. Her blood boiled even harder. Luc was destroying her beloved RV piece by piece.

Carefully, she approached and peered in through the crack of the open side door. There, on the nest of grubby blankets, lay an equally grubby Luc, curled up into a ball. She was naked and snoring. Her mouth was open, and the pink of her tongue trembled against her teeth. She looked pale and unkempt. Emily could only surmise she had been on the run since she had last seen her, and that this tatty RV was perhaps her last hope, her last sanctuary. Emily swung the door open with a resounding crash and leapt on the reclining figure.

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! You stole my things!"

"I sort of knew anyways." Mouse sucked on her lower lip, concentrating on her feet as she and Jolie walked through the forest.

"Yeah. I suppose it wasn't much of a secret." Jolie tried to let herself off the hook. She still felt awful that she had been the one to reveal the truth to Mouse. She supposed it was to be Ren's job at some point, but in Jolie's opinion, Ren was doing a very shoddy job when it came to rearing Mouse. The child was half-wild, and not in a good wolfie way, but in a street punk, child mugger type of way. At least Mouse wasn't as hung up on high tech gadgetry like most of the kids back in Portland were. So how do we talk about this? Should I even attempt to?

They walked along, both kicking up dirt and leaves with their bare feet.

"Why does the pack want to hurt her?" Mouse asked out of the blue.

"Ah. Well." What would Hope do? "They don't want to hurt her. She's sick and they need to find her quick. Okay?" Jolie said, remembering Hope had said something similar.

"Has she got the same virus that killed Patrick and the others?"

"Um. Um" This was hard. Jolie decided to stop stalling. If she were in the kid's place, she'd want the truth. And they were from the same pack after all; they were family, and that had to mean something. "Yes, I guess so. But this time Marie's involved, and she's pretty d.a.m.ned sharp when it comes to medicines and stuff. She used to be a doctor before she became Alpha." She snaked her arm around Mouse's shoulders. "If they find her in time, at least your mom will have a fighting chance. That's more than the others did."

"But she's running away from them. She's scared they'll blame her."

"Blame her for what?" Jolie frowned. She had only breezed in near the end of this saga when Hope and Isabelle were already safely returned to the Garoul compound, and Mouse and Joey were everyone's heroes. It had been too late to blow off steam. No one cared that Jolie had her mate stolen. Hope had handled it all with great aplomb, but that did not stop Jolie from having nightmares for weeks afterward.

"Blame her for what Patrick did. He's the one who grabbed me and Hope," Mouse said.

"Oh?" Jolie said. This was news. It put a whole different slant to the "touch my mate and you die" thing she had going on with Luc. Jolie could feel a sulk starting and battled it down. She wanted Luc to be the baddie. She wanted to be angry with her and Ren, but she also wanted to hear more of Mouse's story.

"He started ordering everyone around when Ren left, but we just laughed and then he grabbed me and took me away to a cabin and locked me up with chains and he had his own pack, but they were stupid." Mouse barely drew breath. "They all got bad guts, but Patrick had it in the head. I knew because his eyes were all red with goo coming out."

"Lovely." Jolie grimaced.

"Plus he was talking c.r.a.p, but Patrick always talked c.r.a.p."

"Hey! Language."

"Joey says c.r.a.p."

"Joey needs a good nip on the ear talking like that around you." Sheesh, what was Ren thinking of? These kids needed taking in hand.

Mouse laughed at that. "I nip Joey's ears all the time. He's silly."

"So," Jolie tried to keep Mouse on track. "You think Patrick did all those things because he was sick?"

"He was mean even before he got sick. He was bossy."

"Did he want to be Alpha?"

"Patrick an Alpha?" Mouse snorted. "He's too c.r.a.p. His pack was c.r.a.p, too."

"I told you. No more bad language."

"Okay." Mouse didn't look the slightest bit bothered.

Jolie gave up on the cussing lecture and tried a different tactic. "You know Patrick's dead, right?" she said as gently as she could.

"Yeah. Luc killed him." Mouse perked up. "I heard Ren tell Marie what she did, and I bet it was 'cause he hurt me. He stole me from Singing Valley and she never knew. I bet she killed him 'cause he was bad to me and way too sick anyway."

So much for p.r.i.c.king her conscience. Mouse had the hard snout of the Garouls through and through.

"Why didn't Luc just tell you she was your mom?" Jolie asked, though she suspected the question would have been better asked of Ren. Why had she and Luc both kept it from her?

Mouse shrugged. "Dunno. I saw her all the time. She never lived with us, but she came nearly every day to teach me how to hunt and do stuff. We had fun. She's the best hunter ever, and builds the best nests. I built a nest in our barn out of hay. Joey said hay is for horses, not Weres, and I said we had no horses so I could sleep in it if I d.a.m.n well wanted to."

"And don't say d.a.m.n either." Jolie had no wish to talk about nests; she hated them unequivocally. Besides, they were fast coming up to the outskirts of Lost Creek and her stomach was grumbling louder than a grizzly. She took hold of Mouse's hand and guided her to the edge of the tree line so they could skirt along it and into town. Jolie knew roughly where she wanted to go, toward the west side where hopefully Johnston's General Store was still in business and still served food.

They padded along a side alley then out onto a dusty sidewalk. The streets were empty. The houses ran in rows, and all had blank windows; most with the shades pulled against the afternoon light. The only vehicle Jolie could see was a small orange RV parked far up ahead, near the woods. It rocked violently from side to side, which she found strange but was in no mood to investigate. It was the only sign of human activity in the otherwise tranquil afternoon. There was no one else in sight, and Jolie was thankful for it.

The store door opened with a cheerful tinkle. Jolie's eye level was higher than the store shelving, and a quick glance around ensured they were the only patrons in the place. Behind the coffee counter, an old man sat fiddling with the radio, trying to tune in a sports station. His nose was almost touching the dial. He looked up as they entered only for his face to fall into a scowl when they were not who he had been expecting.

Jolie led the way over to the counter where she and Mouse slid awkwardly onto the high stools.

"What'll it be?" the old man asked, squinting at them suspiciously.

"Two c.o.kes, and what sandwiches do you have?" Jolie said. A refrigerated stand was wordlessly pointed out to her. She retrieved a selection of sandwiches and set them before Mouse, who pulled the wrapper off the nearest one and took an enormous bite.

"You pa.s.sing through?" the old guy asked, still glaring at them through what Jolie could only imagine to be a mist of myopia. He seemed fascinated with what they were wearing, and squinted hard at her overalls. Jolie couldn't really blame him. They did look rather hillbilly.

"Yeah." She took a large mouthful of sandwich and decided to play dumb.

"Where's your vehicle?"

"We're walking."

He seemed to consider this. "Hiking? Where's your gear?"

That was more awkward, but Jolie was on her second bite now and concentrating on the joy of actually eating. "With friends."

"Who's your friends? Anyone local?"

"Yeah, local."

He paused, waiting for more information. When it didn't arrive he said, "Well? Who? Are they from Lost Creek?"

"Near here." Jolie wished he would go away and let her eat in peace.

"Where then?"

"Little Dip," Mouse piped up.

Jolie frowned. There goes my digestion. The kid knew nothing about the bad feeling between Lost Creek and Little Dip, and Jolie was annoyed she hadn't thought to school her on the way over.

"You mean that witch place?" The old guy's face darkened.

"What witches?" Mouse asked with great interest. Jolie began to shove the unopened sandwiches into her pockets and reach for the wallet. It was time to go, and not a moment too soon.

"Them Garouls are all witches." He wagged a finger at Mouse who scowled back at him. "There's no good goes on out there."

"That's c.r.a.p," Mouse said.

"Why you little brat-" he began, but the click-clack of paws distracted them all from the ugly scene for a split second.

"Taddy!" Mouse cried, and jumped off her stool to hug the little dog who appeared around the corner. He was in a little green tartan coat with a matching collar, and gave a delighted bark to see her. His tail went into overdrive.

"Wilbur. Come here, boy-Hey! That's my wallet. Hey!"

c.r.a.p! Jolie threw the loose bills, wallet, and all at him and grabbed Mouse by the arm. "Run!" she yelled.

"Hey! Stop! Those are my clothes!"

"Keep running." She was dragging Mouse behind her, and behind Mouse came the excited click-clack of Tadpole as he ran to keep up with them.

"Hey! That's my dog!"

They burst out into the bright afternoon. Jolie kept her death grip on Mouse's arm and hurtled down the street to the side alley they had come in by. From there they headed for the cover of the trees. Jolie pulled them deeper into the forest for another fifteen minutes before she stopped to draw breath. Luna! What a bucket of crud. But they were safe now.

"Taddy. What have they done to you?" Mouse was on her knees beside Tadpole hugging him half to death. "I thought we'd lost you forever."

Jolie took a deep breath; her nerves were shot to pieces. She looked at the dog in his jaunty tartan coat and couldn't believe her luck. They had found him, and in the oddest of places. Luna only knew how he had ended up at Johnston's General Store, but Jolie didn't care. She had rescued him and now they could all go home.

Chapter Twenty-one.