Garoul: Silver Collar Part 9

"We do coffee, cake, and some sandwiches," Norm said. "That's not food," he continued to argue, but she let the door swing shut on his grousing and deposited Wilbur on the kitchen floor. He made straight for the screen door, wagging his tail excitedly.

"In one door and out the other, that's all you're good for," she said and followed him out onto the porch.

"Oh no!" The destroyed flowerbed immediately caught her eye. "Don't tell me you're a digger. Uncle Norm will skin you alive. He loves his garden." Emily suspected the love affair between Norm and Wilbur had run its course.

The flowerbed looked like a small meteorite had hit it. Remnants of marigolds, begonias, and petunias lay strewn around a crater that seemed almost too large for the small dog to have dug. Most of the soil and plant debris littered Norm's immaculate lawn.

"You'll be in the pound quicker than a blink. What the-" The s.h.i.+ne of patent leather peeked out from the heap of soil. With a sinking heart, Emily leaned over and pulled out a shoe. "These are my best heels, you little booger!" The Wilbur story was history as far as she was concerned. Wilbur stood nearby wagging his tail harder than ever.

"I should have left you where I found you." Emily stalked back to the house, rigid with disgust and holding her chewed up shoe at arm's length. Wilbur proudly followed her.

Norm met her in the kitchen. "I sent them old boys home and shut early. What ya got there, Em?"

"One of my best shoes, that's what. He buried it in the garden. What was he doing upstairs? These were in my room."

"Oh." Norm looked guilty.

"Did you let him upstairs?" Emily asked.

"I thought he was in the garden. When I went up for the laundry hamper, he must've followed."

"These were my best pair. They're my interview shoes. They cost a fortune." Emily waved the s...o...b..ry, muddy shoe at the dog before tossing it in the trash. "You've just blown your get out of jail free card, mister. It's the pound for you."

"Look, go get your shower and I'll make lunch." Norm tried to placate her. "How about soup?" He began to usher her toward the stairs. She allowed herself to be bustled out. Her nerves were already at the breaking point, and she needed the restorative powers of hot water and scented soap, and she was not coming out until she was as shriveled as a prune.

Upstairs, her bedroom looked...odd? Things had been touched, rearranged, poked at even. Her books! She had not left her books like that. She went out to the landing.

"Uncle Norm?" she called down the stairwell. "Did you say you were in my room?"

"Yeah," he called back over the burble of the kettle. "I got your laundry."

"Were you moving my books about?"

"Yeah. Some fell over. I picked 'em up. Do you want mushroom soup or tomato?"

"Mushroom, please. I'll be down in ten." She relaxed a little.

"Em?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you seen my wallet?"

"No. Try looking under the shop counter. You sometimes leave it there."

"Okay."

Her shower was a quick one after all, and things still weren't right. She took clean underwear from the freshly laundered pile uncle Norm had left on her bed, but she couldn't find her hairbrush anywhere, and a slipper was missing.

"I'm gonna kill that mutt." She went down for lunch.

"My hairbrush has vanished," she said, dragging her fingers through her damp hair. "And one of my slippers. Did you find your wallet?"

"Nope. Not in the shop." Norm shook his head. "I found a dead squirrel on the stoop though."

"A squirrel?" Emily looked at Wilbur. "He must have moved like lightning to snag a squirrel."

But Norm was too busy scratching around in the kitchen drawers to care. "I was sure I left my wallet here," he said.

"Do you think Indiana Jones has been doing more digging?" She nodded at Wilbur who was eating his third meal of the day as far as she could tell. Norm shrugged and sat at the table.

"I'll wander around the yard and do a spot check after lunch," she said, tasting her soup. "Thanks for taking care of lunch, Uncle Norm."

They listened to the local radio as they ate.

"I hate getting old and forgetful," Norm said and sc.r.a.ped back his chair, heading over to the sink to wash his bowl. Emily brought hers over, too, and put her arm around his slumped shoulders. They stood for a moment and looked out at Norm's well-tended yard with its stretch of crisp lawn and bright flowerbeds and the vegetable plot with its small greenhouse already bursting with spring produce. It was immaculate, bar the mess Wilbur had made in the central flowerbed.

"No, you're not, Uncle Norm," she said and gave him a gentle squeeze. "We've both lost things. Dollar to a dime the answer is out there." She nodded at the garden, but her gaze drifted over it to the shadowy tangle of forest that lay beyond.

Chapter Nineteen.

What is it? Jolie frowned up at the tree.

An initiation tree, Mouse said.

An initiation what?

Mouse scuffed her paws, then sank to a squat on the ground. She looked exhausted. Her ears drooped and her muzzle was slack. No Taddy here.

An initiation what? Jolie repeated, all thoughts of Tadpole pushed to the back of her mind. She looked in amazement at the big maple. She had never heard of such a thing. Above her, the bizarre tree was decorated like Christmas come early. Only creepier. The weirdest things dangled from it. A hiking boot strung up by its laces. Bunches of keys swayed like wind chimes. Colorful scarves waved gaily alongside pantyhose and an a.s.sortment of odd socks. s.h.i.+rts of all colors and in all conditions streamed from the tree limbs. Some were ripped to slithery ribbons; others, intact, billowed like sea sails. Pants strung up by their legs hung heavy and sullen, while sweaters waved their arms crazily in warning. Her hackles rose just looking at the macabre sight.

Mouse slid further down until she lay flat out on the ground, and Jolie realized she couldn't hold her wolf shape any longer. She had drained every ounce of energy in her small wolven body and now had no option but to turn back to human form. Kudos to the kid for lasting so long, Jolie thought, and hunkered down beside her.

Okay, go for it, kid. She patted Mouse clumsily with her huge claws. Then she sat and kept guard as Mouse slithered and squirmed her way back into the body of a grubby, mud-caked little girl. Again, the almost painless ease of her mutation amazed Jolie. She supposed Mouse had been trans.m.u.ting since she could crawl. A sure sign of a wolven thoroughbred, and Jolie could only watch and admire.

Jolie was exhausted herself. She could go another couple of hours if necessary, but she didn't see the point. She lowered her head and grunted out the discomfort as her bones ground together and her ligaments stretched to the popping point. When she raised her head many minutes later, Mouse had already recovered and was poking around the immediate area.

"Luc was here," she said excitedly.

"Luc is here." Jolie stood and stretched her cramped muscles, shaking out her human shape. The scent of Luc was overpowering. This was an inhabited hide, not some long abandoned bolt-hole. Everything about it was too fresh, too urgent. Energy bounced off the very fabric of the place, and it made Jolie's skin p.r.i.c.kle. She did not like being in another Were's den uninvited, and especially not Luc Garoul's.

"So what is all this?" She pointed at the tree.

"Told you. Initiation tree. It's what you do if you got a new Were to bring into the pack. I'm hungry." A whine had entered Mouse's voice. "And I'm cold."

Jolie had to admit she was also hungry and cold. It was not the best idea to be wandering around naked. It might have been a sunny day, but here in the depths of the forest, the shadows were long and the air held a late springtime chill. She dragged her thoughts away from the tree and its strange meaning for the moment. It was more important to keep Mouse warm and get her fed. Now that she was in human form, she was a small child and a vulnerable one at that, and Jolie felt an inarguable urge to protect her.

"Okay. Let's get you warm," she said. The most obvious thing was to dress them both from whatever they could salvage from the tree. Some of the garments hanging there were in a pretty sad state. Most were chewed to bits. Whatever was going on with Luc, she was expressing it in the weirdest way. Jolie had no hope of understanding it. She had no idea what an initiation tree was. As far as she was concerned, if you wanted to introduce a new pack member, you brought them home for dinner and to meet the family. You didn't have a garage sale in a tree.

She took a running jump and grabbed at a low-hanging branch, heaving her way up into the tree in an ungainly scrabble.

"Can I come, too?" Mouse called up.

"No, you can't," she barked down. "Stay there." There was a s.h.i.+ver of branches and leaves all around her, and Mouse appeared beside her.

"Whatchya doing?" Mouse asked.

"Getting us some glad rags," she growled. Would this kid ever do what she was told?

"Get me that T-s.h.i.+rt." Mouse pointed. "The one with the horses."

Jolie grabbed the garment and thrust it at Mouse.

"Now get back down," she ordered. She wanted to crawl a bit higher and look at the platform she could just make out several feet above their heads. It was well camouflaged, and Jolie was certain it was important and might contain more clues to what Luc was up to. But, trouble magnet that she was, Mouse was already scrambling toward it. With a tsk of frustration, Jolie grabbed the nearest s.h.i.+rt and a pair of overalls and followed her.

The platform was bigger than she had at first thought. In fact, it was quite cozy. To one side was an a.s.sortment of swag that was no doubt destined to litter the tree. Where had Luc acquired all this stuff? Mouse was already poking through the odds and ends strewn all about.

"Cool," she said. "A Were nest." She picked up a well-chewed sc.r.a.p of what used to be a backpack. With a quick sniff, she tossed it aside and moved on to the next bit of junk.

"A Were nest?" Jolie echoed her. "What the h.e.l.l is a Were nest?"

"It's what we use back home when we go away for long hunts. It's so we can sleep nice and safe," Mouse said.

"You mean you've been in one of these before?" Jolie was amazed.

"I love sleeping in nests. Though this one's full of garbage." She sounded very disapproving.

The wind gusted and the tree swayed. The nest creaked and moved under Jolie's feet making her stomach lurch.

"Doesn't feel so safe," she said. "It's weird to be up this high." Her stomach was swirling now, and she felt dizzy. She didn't dare look down. She was certain she'd puke even though there was nothing inside her to throw up.

"Nests don't have to be in trees," Mouse said. "They can be on the ground if you want them to. They can be anywhere."

"Someone should tell Luc that." Jolie decided she had developed vertigo. Who knew? She had never been this high up a tree in her life and wasn't going to again if she could help it.

"Put on that T-s.h.i.+rt," Jolie said, dragging on her own plaid s.h.i.+rt and well-worn overalls. The pants were far too short and swam around her hips. Mouse obeyed for once and slid into her top. It was a small adult size but still managed to hang from her slender frame right down to her knees.

"Here." Jolie picked up a belt and cinched it around Mouse's waist. "That's better. Looks sort of like a dress, I suppose." Mouse did not look impressed, and Jolie gave her shoulder a brisk pat to compensate for the fas.h.i.+on faux pas. It was the best they could do, and at least they were clothed.

"Hey." Mouse spied something from over Jolie's shoulder. "A wallet!" She pounced on it "And it's got dollars in it."

"Give it here." Jolie waved Mouse to hand it over. She counted the bills. There was more than enough for what she had in mind.

"I'm hungry." Mouse chimed in again, and Jolie could hear her stomach rumbling from a yard away.

"Okay," Jolie said, snapping the wallet closed. "Time to get some food."

"Burgers?" Mouse said hopefully.

"Maybe burgers. Lost Creek is near here. It's got a sort of coffee house thingy." She took one last look around. "Let's get out of here." She would inform Marie of Luc's loopiness once they got home. If they got home. It would be hard to go back without Tadpole. Jolie sent up a quick prayer to Luna for the return of the pup, not that Luna gave a d.a.m.n about stupid dogs, and pushed the problem away. She had more than enough to contend with for the moment.

Mouse went on ahead, scrambling down the tree as agile as any monkey. Jolie swung her legs over the edge of the nest and felt an uncomfortable surge of wooziness that made her overly defensive and angry. Trust Luc to get her into a situation she wasn't comfortable with. Luc was a pain in the a.s.s and nothing but trouble.

"Nests are for the birds. But then your mom always was a cuckoo," she muttered.

"My mom?" Mouse's voice traveled up from the ground below. Jolie had forgotten the pin-drop precision of her hearing. "Luc is my mom?"

Oh freakin' h.e.l.l no! Panic shot through her. She had just made a monumental error. She had breached a confidence she'd been told in the highest secrecy and a terrible sense of shame overwhelmed her. Her foot slipped. Jolie grunted, she grappled for purchase, her eyes bulged...and then she crashed through the branches to land in a heap by Mouse's feet. Leaves and twigs, a baseball cap, bra.s.sieres, a tampon, and a lot of dead insects showered down on her. She lay winded, listening to the blood thump through her. And then Mouse's wide-eyed face was hovering over hers, and above the blood thundering in her ears she clearly heard Mouse say, "Luc's my mom!"

The RV smelled like...Luc sniffed. It smelled like...like...secrets, she supposed. Yes, secrets. But were they her own or Emily's? That's what she had to work out, which was probably why the RV had become her new thinking place.

The little orange vehicle had sat beside the house under the shade of a cedar all afternoon. Sunlight winked off its chrome, teasing her, beguiling her. No one had come near it for hours. Emily was inside doing Emily things, and Luc could not resist sidling closer for a quick look through the RV windows.

It was lucky that Emily didn't lock it, though the skitter of Luc's claws on the paintwork around the door handles looked suspiciously like a break-in. As if someone with shaky hands had taken a screwdriver to the locks. Still, she was inside now, and delighted to find the heap of blankets still on the floor where she and Emily had slept...before the Garouls came and ruined it all.

But first, she had to make the place just right for thinking. The RV was old and stunk of cheap plywood and brittle plastic. Even the brown upholstery with its horrible, k.n.o.bby texture reeked of fabric cleaner. Luc rubbed her damp muzzle on the bench seat to wipe off the yuckiness and replace it with s.e.xy werewolf. Then she lay down in the makes.h.i.+ft nest and sucked up Emily smells and let her mind drift. She had felt a little bit bad about all the stuff she had stolen, so she had returned to bring a few gifts of her own. But it was her secret. No one must ever know she had done it. She had a bad reputation to maintain.

Secrets.

Hers and Emily's.

She considered her own first. Namely, why did this human affect her so much? At least she could dissect her scent now, separate out the woman from the chemicals that polluted her. Luc remembered the first time she had encountered Emily's scent with its stink of antidepressants and sleeping pills. She had stolen her backpack and pulled it inside out to get a nose for her hunter. The true essence of Emily's scent had eluded her then, pungent with her anxieties and medications. No matter how intrigued Luc was, she could not interpret the telltale odors of Emily's body. At first, she had worried that the virus had decimated her sense of smell. The hunter in Luc studied scent the way a human savored wine. Luc tasted scent. It flavored her sinuses, exploding on her tongue with a million messages, impressions, directives. Sly suggestions swilling around her teeth until she snapped them away like flies. Sometimes, from the corner of her eye, she would make out a shadow, a fleeting vision that, if she held her breath might manifest itself into her quarry and she would know where and what it was and how to kill it.

She squirmed further into the nest, each rustle of the blankets releasing a waft of Emily's skin scent. Luc wanted to wrap herself in it. Her collar dinged against the linoleum floor, and she rubbed the metallic edge against the soft fur of her neck until the flesh underneath protested. This was her secret. The collar was the cure. The collar had contained the virus, and all her stunted wolven powers had flooded back, and she'd bet anything that had not been Emily's intention.

What was her intention? Luc lay back and stared at the stained roof liner. To cut out my gizzard, that's what. Her muzzle creased as she rumbled out a growl, but her heart wasn't really in it. She liked that Emily was after her gizzard. Luc demanded one on one attention. So let's look at little Emily's secrets.

Emily wanted a werewolf, a live specimen to cut up. Luc remembered the vicious surgical instruments. But not any old werewolf. Emily had captured a Garoul. She knew about the Garouls. She had studied them and blamed them for her father's death. Luc's ears flattened. She knew about this hunting incident. She had been a witness to it. It had been a catalytic moment in her life, and in the lives of her immediate family. Emily's secrets weren't so secret after all; they were all about revenge. Revenge for a death Luc had already paid for.

Luc flopped over onto her belly, and the small RV rocked on its springs. Her snout was level with the fridge vent, and she idly picked the dust from it with her fore claw. She should have killed Emily. There had been countless opportunities. Okay, so she had needed things from her, like cell keys and collar keys. She had even planned to use her as a human s.h.i.+eld to drive her out of Garoul territory and on to the border. Then she would have killed her. Or would she? And this maybe was the biggest secret. Luc couldn't kill her.

Instead of destroying the almanac and its human owner, she was sneaking into bedrooms stealing scent. Luc flicked the dust bunnies from her claws and rolled back to stare at an oblique sliver of blue sky through the RV window. Yes. She was drawn to Emily in a way she couldn't understand, and could never harm her. And that was the biggest secret of all.

Chapter Twenty.