Shadow of the Wolf Page 2

  She scrubbed herself until her skin shone and then washed her hair. She wrapped a small towel around her head and wrapped a terry cloth robe around her body and padded her way to the kitchen.

  She opened her now full refrigerator and got out the ingredients for a grilled cheese. As she began putting the butter in her brand new, but seasoned iron skillet, she heard a terrible howl. She looked out the kitchen window but saw nothing unusual.

  It might be a hungry stray dog somewhere in the wooded area where she couldn’t see. She would have to wait until morning to find out. If it turned out to be a hungry dog, she would, at least, go pick up a bag of dog food at the store.

  After she finished eating and cleaning up her mess, she was eager to get into bed and take another look at that mysterious book.

  Around ten-thirty, she settled in and opened up the leather book and starting reading the first entry.

  “’February 4, 1865:

  “’I have finally accumulated enough wealth, selling quite a number of my slaves as I don’t see the point of having them anymore. They have made up almost half of the population here since 1860. I was always uncomfortable owning another human being but they were handed down to me by my father, James. I can’t free them as by law. I’m still waiting to see what else President Lincoln has to say on the matter as is the entire North and South. But we’re still in this terrible Civil War and we have been for almost four years now. I don’t know how many lives will be lost for such a petty thing on whether owning slaves should still be allowed. I don’t understand why the South wants to expand their hold on these people. I have no problem doing the work with my own two capable hands.

  “’I am purchasing the entire town of Point Clearing with my earnings and renaming it Holden.

  “’This town will be handed down to the men of my blood. My son, Elijah, is next in line. I hope all the men in the Van Holden family make this town into a prosperous one. It is a beautiful place here and worthy of a passionate owner.

  “’I just pray that the town of Holden is the only thing I pass down. Every night, I beg and plead for no one to live with such a curse as the one I’m doomed to carry until death.

  “’Unfortunately, the tincture’s powers have worn down. The resistance in my body has grown stronger. I fear I cannot ingest more than is required for it would prove to be fatal. Taking my own life with a large dose does not sit well with me. I am sure it would also be a most painful death. But, taking someone’s life disturbs me greatly. Either way, the outcome is a gruesome one.

  “’Now, I must wait in agony of the rising moon and pray the tincture and ropes are enough to calm me.

  “’Signed: Joseph Van Holden.’”

  Serenitee sniffed. What a sad story. But, she realized it wasn’t a work of fiction but an actual journal of the Van Holden family.

  What was the curse he was talking about? What was this talk of moons, ropes and tinctures of……something to help him?

  And what did this entire journal have to do with the title of it? What did werewolves have to do with the Van Holden family? Werewolves were myths told and re-told in different ways from every part of the world. Every continent practically had their version of the werewolf. Sure, in Africa, it was hyenas, but the stories were similar in that a human changed into an animal.

  Perhaps it was some kind of mental illness that Joseph was afraid of passing to his descendants. Wasn’t lycanthropy considered a mental illness at one time?

  Surely, that’s all it was.

  Trevor awoke in a naked heap on his kitchen floor a little after three in the morning. He got to his knees and looked at the blood on his trembling hands.

  “No.” His voice was raw. No doubt from what he put his vocal cords through.

  He got up and went to the sink and began scrubbing away the blood from his hands. He wished he could wash away the guilt and watch it run down the drain as easily as the blood did. Like Lady Macbeth, water wasn’t going to wash away those guilty feelings. Time couldn’t heal a repressed conscience. It only gnawed at you until there was nothing left.

  He caught a glimpse of himself in the kitchen window. He saw only a stranger looking back at him, smears of blood on his face. He quickly cupped some cold water and scrubbed until it hurt; until his face was raw and his skin prickled.

  He wondered what poor innocent animal he killed this time.

  A chilling thought sliced through him like an icy dagger to his heart. “Please, not a human being. Dear Lord, I couldn’t live with myself if I took a human life.” He fell to his knees, still gripping the edge of the sink, sobs racking his body. “Why can it just be over?” His raggedly plea echoed through the kitchen. The sound of his own hollow voice haunted him, mocked him. His dreams were no longer his. The nightmares belonged to the beast. It wouldn’t be long before it eroded his mind completely.

  How much longer was he going to have to live with this wretched curse? How many full moons would he bay at before it all stopped?

  He hated to think that, like the men in his family before him, only in death, could the curse be lifted. He was only thirty-two. He couldn’t take another twenty years of this hell. If he had twenty years left to him, that is.

  His father had made it to the age of fifty. How much longer did he really have to live? Each time the curse was passed down, the age of the cursed one was shortened by ten years. When he added it all up, he would only make it to forty. Eight more years still seemed like a lifetime to wait until this nightmare ended.

  Maybe he should take comfort in that thought. At least he wouldn’t be able to hurt another living soul again.

  What’s more, is that Serenitee was living too close to him and----

  “Serenitee!” Oh, dear God, what if he had hurt her? Killed her? What if it was her blood on his hands? He would slice open his own heart if he did anything to hurt her.

  He shot upstairs to his room and dressed quickly. He had to check on her. Right now.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he was able to see that she was sound asleep in her bed and his heart started beating again.

  He didn’t fail to notice that she was wearing a skimpy nightgown and the covers had been pushed to the foot of the bed. His ears picked up on her moaning softly to a dream he wished he had the privilege of knowing.

  Feeling too much like a creepy pervert, he decided it was time to leave before his arousal was at full force.

  Unfortunately, this curse also gave him a voracious sexual appetite. He was glad he was strong enough not to give in to those lycanthropic impulses. He didn’t want to end up hurting the woman of his interest.

  And, Serenitee was the one he had in his sights. He knew what he would like to do to her. He also knew he wasn’t going to do it. She would end up disgusted at the sight of him. He could barely stand to look at himself in the mirror at the thing he was. How could Serenitee face herself if she knew she made love to a monster? She was only a few years younger than he was. She had a full life ahead of her. He couldn’t be the one to stand in her way. He’d ruin her for life.

  He should just stay away but he had already offered to help her fix up the house. He figured he was safe if he helped during the daylight hours and made sure that the dinner date wasn’t during a full moon.

  Man, he loathed himself.

  Chapter Three Serenitee didn’t hear any whimpering for a week now, but decided to buy the dog food just in case. She heaved the bag onto her porch.

  But Serenitee got to see quite a bit of Trevor. He had come over several times to lend a strong and capable hand. When he loosened up, Serenitee found him to be hilarious with his jokes and just an all-around nice guy. He shared some stories about his past and little things about himself. His dad had died at fifty. His mom left before that and he’s never seen or heard from her since. She knew he didn’t like milk and salads of a green nature. Even though he was from the South, he really didn’t care too much for country music. He preferred music without lyrics the majority of th
e time. He always took great care of his plants, one in particular he called Acinitum. They were beautiful but toxic plants. She wasn’t allowed to touch them without gloves. She adored the bold palmate lobes and deep green leaves. Given that they were natives of Britain and not indigenous to Alabama, Trevor had to pay extra special attention to them. He definitely had a green thumb that she envied. She didn’t have a good relationship with plants. No matter what she did, they always ended up withering on her.

  It was just odd that he cared for Monkshood. It was part of the werewolf myth that these plants were used to ward off these creatures. That, added with what she read in the Van Holden journal was enough to freak her out.

  She chastised herself. “Serenitee, you’re reading way too much into this. It’s a coincidence.” She really shouldn’t let her imagination run away from her. Besides, the plants really were gorgeous. And Trevor happened to like them. No big deal.

  The days he came over to help, she would pretend not to notice the sultry stares Trevor pointed her way, mainly because she didn’t know what to do with them or if she should reciprocate. His presence was a bit daunting. She still wondered why he didn’t act on his feelings. Maybe they’ve only known each other for a little over a week, but she knew he wanted to kiss her. Would it be so bad if he did? Would it be so bad if he did more than that?

  Resting in bed that night, Serenitee wondered how many days could she sit idly by and not give in to these strong carnal desires. How long would it be before she fell into Trevor’s arms and let him make ferocious love to her? He had this commanding hold on her and for once, she welcomed these feelings. She couldn’t explain why she needed him. She knew she just did. As intimidating as he was, it didn’t stop her from wanting him.

  She had invited him over for dinner this coming Saturday, so she could always find out then. If she was that daring enough, that is.

  Trevor walked up to Serenitee later Saturday evening, having been invited for dinner. “What is that for?” He pointed to the large bag of dog food sitting on the porch. He knew she didn’t have any pets around.

  “Oh!” She didn’t even hear him walk up. “Well, I heard a poor little doggy out here a while back. He sounded like he was whining from hunger. I just can’t let the poor thing starve. So, I thought I’d buy him some food,” she explained amiably.

  Trevor paled. “We don’t have strays around here.” If she only knew that that ‘poor little doggy’ was actually a large, blood thirsty monster, she’d rethink that bag of Fido’s Yum Yums. “Besides, it’s not safe going around feeding strays. You could get hurt.”

  Serenitee chuckled. “Oh, come on, Trevor. Animals like me. I seem to have a knack with them. They warm to me.”

  He cursed silently. She shouldn’t have admitted that.

  He wished to God his inner beast would warm to her. He highly doubted that. All it wanted was flesh and blood. That, intermingled with the powerful lust he had for her, would cause nothing but heartache—or worse.

  Yeah, he could make savage love to her but what would stop the animal within from tearing her to shreds later?

  The thought made him sick to his stomach and Serenitee must have noticed.

  “Trevor?” She put her hand on his forearm. “Are you all right?”

  Trevor swallowed the lump in his throat. He stepped away from her touch. Not because he didn’t like how it felt but because he didn’t deserve her kindness. The pained look in her eyes reflected that of rejection.

  Ah, hell.

  “Look,” he said much more grating than he intended. “Don’t mess with these darn animals no matter how good you think you are with them. I’d leave them be.” And that includes yours truly, he put silently.

  Serenitee lifted her chin. “I can handle myself, Trevor. I have been since I was seventeen. I’ll be fine, all right? Don’t worry.”

  Trevor sighed. He was torn between telling her to leave while she was still safe and hauling her over his shoulders like some kind of cave man and taking her right here on the old wooden porch, splinters be damned. That latter thought just went to show him what a selfish bastard he was. He didn’t think that it would’ve changed matters any. Whether it was selfish or not, he still wanted her. And that’s why he felt like kicking himself.

  He didn’t mean to sound arbitrary but she brought out a fierce protectiveness in him. If he was any kind of man, the only way he could protect her was to steer clear of her when the curse hit him.

  “You’re right. I have no business telling you what to do.”

  She pulled at his sleeve and smiled. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready. Are you hungry?”

  What a loaded question. He was hungry……..for all the wrong reasons.

  “Starved.”

  “How do you like your steak cooked?”

  “Rare.”

  She led him to the kitchen table and gestured toward a chair. “Great. That’s how I like mine, as well.”

  Feeling a little more relaxed, Trevor sat back in his chair and watched her work. He liked a woman with a hearty appetite and wasn’t afraid to eat hunks of meat barely singed over a grill. There was nothing worse than a woman picking at a couple of leaves then feigning fullness.

  Serenitee came over with a glass of iced tea and lemon and set it in front of him. “I hope this is good. Sweet tea isn’t a big thing up North. But Rue told me how to make the best tea in the state.”

  Trevor picked up the glass. “Rue? The café owner? I haven’t seen her in a while.” He took a sip. “This is really good.”

  Serenitee grinned at the compliment. “Yeah, I went to the café when I first got here. She is a very nice lady and a superb cook. Very motherly.”

  “She’s that way with everybody.” Except me. “She never meets a stranger.”

  “I will believe that.” She set a plate on his place mat. “I know you hate salads but you said you loved carrots so I glazed some for you instead. I’ll eat the salad.”

  They ate at a leisurely pace. Serenitee shared some of her life with him the way he had earlier.

  “I had a great childhood. Not perfect. I don’t know of any kid—especially teenagers—that would admit their life had gone by unblemished. My mom was a poet and a very good one. She had a number of poems published. She won an award for one of her poems, ‘Drifting Time’.

  “My dad was a painter. I know you’ve heard of the ‘starving artist’. In his case, it was true. He was a decent painter but let’s just say I’m glad he didn’t quit his day job.”

  Trevor tried to hide a laugh. “That’s too bad.”

  “Ah, he knew he wasn’t a Picasso. I think he did it because it took him away from the stresses of the world. He was dentist by day. I guess standing around peering into open mouths all day can get tedious.”

  “You keep saying ‘was’. What happened to them?”

  Serenitee pushed her plate away. “Plane crash. They were on their way back from a convention in Chicago that my dad had been invited to. I was seventeen at the time. I got a call from Aunt Trish at six in the evening. I’ll never forget that. She told me that the plane had crashed a few miles from JFK. There was something wrong with the controls or something to that affect. They still don’t really know. They called it a freak accident.”

  Trevor put a comforting hand over hers. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been hell for you.”

  Serenitee squeezed his hand. “It was at first. I couldn’t eat or sleep for weeks. I merely went through the motions of living. I was like a robot. I didn’t feel anything. I guess it was denial that numbed me. After that wore off, I cried for days. Then, after the tears dried up, I knew I needed to rejoin the land of the living. I’ll never really get over it. But, it doesn’t hurt like it used to. I’ve been taking care of myself ever since.”

  “And you don’t need someone like me being overprotective,” he regarded.

  Serenitee started taking their plates. “I know you were just trying to help. I’ve just been doing for mys
elf for so long I don’t know what to do with someone wanting to watch over me and make sure I’m safe.”

  Safe. Yes, he wished he could keep her safe. How could he protect her from him and be with her at the same time?

  “Do you like chocolate?”

  He grinned and said with a teasing tone, “Who doesn’t?”

  Serenitee brought over a plate of warm, fudgy walnut brownies and a carafe of coffee.

  Trevor sat on the couch, enjoying his second cup of coffee. He couldn’t bring himself to leave. Did he really want to go? He knew he should high tail it out of here. It was getting too late to stay. The full moon was going to rise in five more days and his sexual urges became stronger the closer it got. Five days was close enough for him to feel more aroused and his senses more acute. The dewy scent of Serenitee’s skin could make a man forget himself. He always thought he had a strong hold on his desires but with Serenitee, he felt as weak as a puppy. He grimaced at his choice of words.

  No, he shouldn’t stay much longer.

  Serenitee sat beside Trevor, analyzing his placid demeanor. What was going through his head right now?

  Trevor cleared his head and turned to face Serenitee. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

  “You’re welcome.” Serenitee angled herself to get a better look at him. He had a perfect bone structure. With his body and that profile, he could’ve been a model. Somehow, Serenitee didn’t think that Trevor would even think about modeling as a career. He’d probably laugh her out of the room or stare at her like she’d grown an alien head.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  “I’m just studying you. You’re very different from the other men I’ve dated or been friends with,” she admitted.

  He cocked his eyebrow. “Oh? Am I that fascinating of a subject?” He took a sip of coffee.

  “Yes. You are.”

  Trevor swallowed his coffee too fast and it burned going down. He waited until the burning stopped before speaking. “I’m just me.”