“This is Allora SanDiir,” Josh said, his hand resting protectively on my back. “She's working on the dig. She's one of the archaeologists.
“Allora SanDiir? The officer frowned even more. "Then you too will need to testify." Your name appeared in our questions.
- He appeared?
“The victim was a reporter for the Daily Post. Her name was…' He consulted the clipboard. “Misty Sharpe. It looks like she was leaving the archaeological site to conduct more research. She stopped here, parked the car and walked a few meters before someone attacked her and ripped her throat out.
My head spun. Was Misty dead? I spoke to her yesterday. Your ridiculous article was on the Internet this morning. How could she be dead? And who would have done such a thing? Rip out her throat, like a wild animal...
The cop gave me a pointed look.
“She was coming here to talk to you, Miss SanDiir. Apparently, there was an article about you published this morning, and Misty was hoping for a follow-up. Sounds like you're…” He consulted his notes. I could see he had a printout of Misty's article. — Warm and unapologetic about her part in her boyfriend's mysterious death.
My face burned. Death followed me everywhere, it seems. My mind spun with memories of the police at my house, asking for information about Ben, telling my mother that my father was dead, taking me to the morgue to identify the body. It was the same again. This can not be happening.
But was. As we gave our statements to the detective sergeant, leaving out the part about the shower and the black wolf, a crime scene team burst into the room in their white coats and gloves. Four police officers maneuvered a stretcher into the ambulance. On the gurney was a large black bag. I couldn't believe that inside was Misty Sharpe, her stilettos no doubt still on her feet.
Misty was dead, and the police thought I had something to do with it. But I knew the truth. One thing was for sure. The discovery of the caves brought more wolves to DownMoor. And one of them had murder in mind.
And that meant I could be next.
**
josh
AND
I had to hand over the steering to Allora. She really knew how to step on it. The Mini drove down the dirt road as if it were on a NASCAR track. His forehead was creased in concentration, his entire focus on putting as much space as possible between us and the cops. Before long I could make out the white side of the trailer and the orange tents among the trees. My stomach clenched with nerves, all senses on high alert.
I knew Caleb was lying to me. He has already attacked Allora once and openly declared that he was prepared to challenge me for her. And now some wolf was showing up at her house, leaving her books full of poison? And a reporter who interviewed her turned up dead? Caleb knew something about all of this, and I needed to get that out of him by any means possible.
“Caleb! I yelled, jumping before Allora could stop.
No reply. From the trailer, I heard laughter. Ruth. Ruth was laughing. Ruth didn't laugh. Laughing was impossible when you considered yourself so above others.
Maybe it wasn't a laugh. Maybe it was the sound of her choking on her own contempt. Perhaps the black wolf had already reached them. I ran up the stairs of the traitor , my heart hammering in my chest, and threw open the door.
The sight I was faced with made me stop.
- Hmm…
Caleb was standing behind the stove, wearing a topographical map rolled up like a chef's hat and an apron with a picture of a Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton and the word YOLO on the front. He was tossing crepes into the air in a large frying pan. Pasta covered every surface in the kitchen, and pieces of burnt crepes stuck to the ceiling like stalactites. Around the counter were Frances, Ruth and Max, all laughing as Caleb tossed a crepe over his shoulder without looking. It landed on one of the plates on the counter, and Frances leaned in to claim it as her own.
- What is happening? I demanded, my eyes meeting Caleb's. Allora followed me upstairs and looked under my arm.
“Oh, Josh,” Ruth gasped between giggles. "Did you meet Caleb?" He is a reporter for Gazeta Ecológica. He is writing a paper on the impact of archaeological discoveries on the natural environment and will be camped at the site for a few days to observe us.
"I thought that would be exactly the kind of anti-archaeological article you'd approve of," Frances said between mouthfuls.
“The police have been here, asking questions about a murder that happened nearby. I'm just trying to cheer everyone up. Hey.
Caleb held out a batter-covered hand. I nodded, frowning at him. What was his game here?
“Nice to meet you, Caleb. Allora reached around me and squeezed his hand, looking up at him warmly. "Do you have one of those crepes for me?"
- Of course. He loaded the pan with a spoonful of batter, smearing most of it over the sides. I wanted to rip the crepe right out of her hands, but I couldn't do it in front of the others. Soon, all the archaeologists were around the counter, munching on crepes.
"Would you like one too, Ranger?" Caleb grinned cheekily at me. I blinked. His face had a certain familiarity. With his reddish hair, he reminded me a little of my father, only younger and meaner.
“We need to talk,” I hissed into Caleb's ear. He nodded as he slid a crepe onto a plate and handed it to me. I threw it in the trash can next to the bench. Allora glanced between us and casually reminded Frances what time it was.
"We have to go back!" — The teacher wiped the crumbs from her mouth. “The team will want to interview Ruth again while the rain has stopped. Caleb…” She cast a quick glance my way. “Don't forget to wear the helmet I gave you if you head back to the caves.
- I'll not forget. Caleb tapped the brim of his helmet, which was lying on the stool next to the sink, dusted with flour and dough.
The archaeologists exited the trailer, leaving me alone with my presumed cousin and within easy reach of a knife rack. Caleb took off his paper hat and nonchalantly poured himself a cup of tea.
"What is it, little cousin?" he sneered as he lifted the cup to his lips.
I snarled, the wolf in me pressing against my skin, begging to be released to tear it to shreds. But before I could confront him, Allora dropped her book on the table.
"Can't you smell it?"
“Actually, no… ah, shit. Caleb took a deep breath at the cloak and his eyes widened. “I've smelled that wolf before.
“Of course you have,” I growled. “It's your perfume.
“Josh,” Allora warned.
- What? Caleb set his mug down.
“I'm starting to think that black wolf is an illusion. It is the only explanation that fits all the facts. You enchanted this book with a love spell, so that you could have Allora for yourself. I followed her scent into the woods, and it merged with that same scent in the book. This is because the two scents are from the same wolf. You. That's why the scent comes and goes, and why the black wolf didn't come anywhere near the place, and why I never saw you or him together. He is a glamour. I don't know how you are doing all this, but we have authority that the spell of the book is quite powerful. Thou must have some considerable skill.
"Have you been smoking anything, Ranger?" Caleb waved his hand in front of my eyes. — Because you're crazy. I am just me. I'm not posing as a black wolf. I'm not running around killing reporters. I've been here all day, keeping the team safe.
You can ask them.
- I go. Tell the truth now, and I might not rip your throat out.
Caleb laughed.
- This is ridiculous. A wolf with two scents is impossible. Furthermore,
I saw the other wolf. So unless you think I can also magically alter my appearance... "You can't?"
"Of course I can't!" Look, of course I want Allora. She is beautiful and an ideal companion. Who doesn't? But I'm not going to kill my only living relative to get it. You and I are more powerful together, little cousin. We need to find the black wolf and finish him off before he kills someone else. He's hiding in the creek somewhere.
“I know where he is,” I said.
- Good. Because I've been following the faint scent of his trails through the woods for the last few days and I haven't been able to find his lair. He is clearly disguising his scent. At first I thought it was an old trail, but then I saw him walking around.
"And this wolf wants me?" Allora looked sick. "Why did he kill the reporter?"
“I don't know,” I said, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her close. “But we have to be careful. I won't let you out of my sight.
“If that wolf claimed these lands for himself, he'd naturally assume he'd be able to claim it for himself as well,” Caleb said.
- This will not happen. I grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “We assumed he wouldn't attack in broad daylight, but the police say Sharpe was killed a few hours ago. He's more dangerous than we know. I'm guessing you couldn't convince Frances to cancel the dig...
- No way.
“Then we need to secure the site, round-the-clock surveillance.
“I agree,” Allora said. “And if we're dealing with a magical wolf, we'll need some sort of magical protection.
— What do you mean?
“I can't believe I'm suggesting this, but maybe Clara has some charms or spells or things that could help protect us. Allora glanced at her watch. “By the time I got back to town, she had already closed up shop. But I'll be back tomorrow.
Caleb picked up his helmet.
“I'm heading back to the caves. I'll be able to take care of the team while I'm there.
“We're going too. I grabbed Allora's coat off the shelf by the door and tossed it to her. There was no way to leave Caleb back in those caves without being there. Allora could trust him, but I sure as hell didn't.
Caleb and I spent the last few hours of daylight taking turns holding flashlights while Frances and Allora carefully brushed mud and debris off the cave paintings. Ruth was busy on the surface with another film crew.
After dinner, Allora sat down with her stack of books and began her research. A fervor to prove that the fake paintings got the best of her—she said that if she could do that, maybe she'd get Frances to call off the dig, and that would keep the whole team safe.
Not wanting to leave her side, I pulled out one of the books—a history of supernatural occurrences in DownMoor—and turned to the Victorian era section. My eyes fell on a chapter about the Peytons.
… Renowned for their prowess as witch hunters, the Peyton family held a place of honor in the DownMoor community. During the late Victorian period, Patriarch Robert Peyton was Bishop of Loamshire and led some of the last witch hunts on English soil, mostly against what he called shapeshifters who poisoned the land with their unnatural face. The family was supposedly haunted by a cursed relative who could turn into a wolf. They committed this unfortunate cousin to a mental asylum. Peyton and her family stabbed to death at least eighteen people they believed to be shapeshifters, including a family who lived in a cave in the woods near DownMoor...
Beside me, Allora was furiously scribbling notes.
“I get it,” she whispered to me, pointing her finger at one of the cave paintings on the canvas. “You don't believe it, Josh. It's so simple.
- As? I whispered back.
She pointed to one of the pictures, where my grandfather was dragging a pig carcass back to the cave, and his three children were waiting with their mouths open for dinner. "This pig is easily recognizable as an Oxford Sandy and Black pig," she said. — There is no other breed of pigs. But this particular breed was not introduced into the country until the seventeenth century.
"Much later than the Neolithic, then?"
- Exactly. Her smile was contagious. — And when you put that together with the priests in the last image… it's obvious. Ruth will throw up when I tell her. You found something...
I handed her the book and pointed to the paragraph about Peyton.
“They look like nasty people.” She shuddered as she read the page.
- Yes. But did you notice what's interesting? They might have a shapeshifter in the family.
"Don't you think that's just part of the legend?"
“All legends start somewhere. Maybe you should ask your mythology expert friend.
- I go. He's supposed to come here tomorrow to look at the caves…” Allora paled. "I hope I don't put you in danger."
“He'll be fine. We can leave in the morning and wait for him. I would like to meet this friend of yours.
- Okay. Thank you, Josh.
The sun had long since sunk below the horizon. The beer supplies ran out and one by one the archaeologists went to bed. Allora looked at me and Caleb.
"I feel very ready for bed," she said. “What should we do now?
"You go to my tent," I growled. "But you're not going to sleep anytime soon."
"So nobody wants to play cards with me?" Caleb asked.
“Play with yourself. You're going to do the first shift tonight. Come call me at 3 am and I'll surrender you.
"So you trust me now?"
- No. But Allora trusts, and that means something to me.
- It should. Allora smiled, wrapped her arms around me, and kissed my lips.
As we walked through the camp, Allora snuggled tighter against my body. Her heat ignited my desire. My cock was already against my jeans. It had only been a few hours since we showered together, but I was already desperate to be inside her.
Allora hung back as I circled her tent, sniffing the air for a hint of black wolf scent. Anything. But I knew better than to believe he was gone forever. I opened the flap and looked inside, but no one was hiding and waiting for us.
“After you. — I pulled the flap all the way. Allora walked in and I followed, wrapping my hands around her lovely round ass.
- Hey! Allora protested, jumping away. But there wasn't much to go in the small tent. She collapsed against her sleeping bag, and I climbed onto her, my cock pressing urgently against her thigh.