I'll Be Damned (Anna Wolfe Series) (18 page)

I forgot how older people regard time. “Um… I’m sorry I didn’t realize the time. I just got back from work and was wondering… I just wanted to see how you and Jack were.”

“We’re doing fine. Nothing has changed since the last time we spoke.”

Lacking a good lead in the conversation, I blurt out my first available thought. “I’m worried about Janie and Nick. Is everything okay between the two of them?” I ask.

My mother sighs. “Yes. Why do you ask? They’re still happily married.”

Damn Janie. She didn't tell our parents. I shake my head in frustration. My mother has no idea what’s going on in Janie’s life, so this is a total waste of time. “Oh. I guess I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Well, Mom, take care and have a good night…” I reply, embarrassed.

“Goodnight, dear.”

The line goes dead before I can reply. I cover my face and breathe deeply, praying this is all a dream before dialing the police. 

"911, what's your emergency?" A petite, Southern accent asks. The image of a round woman with bottle-blond hair and hot pink nail polish enters my mind.

“I would like to file a missing person report for my sister, Janie Schultz. When I came home..."

"Ma’am, how long has your sister been missing?"

"Since sometime today. When I came home, she wasn’t here and I know something is wrong. She wouldn’t leave without telling me where she’s going."

"We can't file a missing person report until forty-eight hours has passed."

"Why? That’s ridiculous,” I stutter. “What if she’s in trouble and needs help?"

"Ma’am that’s our policy. I’m sorry. If you don’t hear from her within forty-eight hours, call us back."

"This is unbelievable," I mutter before slamming the phone down on the woman. Screw them.

"Shit!" I yell out loud. I can't believe this is happening. I lower my head in my hands and sob. Where’s my life’s
Rewind
button? I would start all over again and do so many things differently. I wipe my face, staring out the window over my sink. What can I do?
Nothing, Anna… you can't do anything
. A thunderous knock echoes through my house, bouncing off every wall. Rutey runs into Janie’s room as I dart to the door, flinging it wide open, devoid of nervousness. Luckily, no one is standing there. I softly step on the porch, careful not to make a sound. The darkness makes it nearly impossible to see the landscape. I shudder as a cold breeze slices my skin. Something is out there. Fear burrows inside me, forcing me to recoil. I head back inside, locking the door behind me.

Before I have minute to regroup, another knock pounds through the house. I back away from the door, refusing to open it. What if it’s the police or Janie? Logic politely interrupts, declaring Janie has a key, and the police won’t waste their time coming out here. What if it’s Shane? That’s more like it, except he doesn’t know where I live. I grab an umbrella from the closet, preparing to stab anyone I don’t recognize. Curiosity forces me to turn the deadbolt warily. If anyone is on the other side, they must hear the battering of my heart. I turn the doorknob, peeking through the slender opening.

"Planning for rain?" Valen jokes. His hands are tucked away in his pockets like a nervous school boy. "I apologize for bothering you, but we need to talk," he says firmly.

"Valen, now’s not the time.” 

"Anna, it’s about your sister... and you."

Without further ado, I open the door, inviting him in with a gesture. My mind is spinning so fast, my thoughts are getting lost and jumbled. Dazed, I walk into the family room, lowering myself on the couch furthest from the entrance. Valen senses my discomfort and chooses to sit on the loveseat. He props his arms onto his thighs and leans over uneasily. 

"Listen Anna... I know Janie’s missing and I figured now was as good a time as any..."

I turn in his direction. "What do you mean, you know? How do you know her name? I don’t understand…" I feel the tears welling up, threatening to spill any minute.

"I found out she was taken a few hours ago. You were both in danger long before tonight,” he explains. “That’s why I’m here… I didn’t plan on the situation becoming so dangerous this fast.”

Part of me wants to jump up and plant my fist into his face. "Stop,” I demand. “Valen, you need to tell me how you know Janie, why she’s missing, and how you know where I live, damn it! I need explanations now!" I yell, standing up. My legs break into a long stride, pacing the nervous energy right out of me. This doesn’t make sense. I don’t owe anyone money, I’m definitely not involved in the Mafia… what can possibly be going on? Does Janie owe someone money? Maybe he has me confused with another Anna. It appears we’re involved in an unknown situation, which, I’m about to find out, is one of the worst feelings in the world.

"Anna... what I’m going to tell you is hard to understand. Please promise me one thing…”

“I won’t promise anything,” I snap. I don’t like leaping from first introductions to promises so quickly.

“Just keep an open mind. This will challenge everything you know.” 

Sounds easy enough. I nod, agreeing to his terms, and unable to imagine what he's talking about, or where he’s going with this, but I’m nonetheless intrigued.

He clears his throat. “I’m different, Anna,” he begins with a shaky voice.

"What the hell does that have to do with my sister and me?" I interrupt.

"It has everything to do with your family. The background is the key to understanding everything."

Now we are speaking in riddles. Fanfriggintastic. I roll my eyes and gesture for him to continue.

“I was born in 1875 at the Waddesdon Manor in Buckinghamshire, England. My uncle, Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild, raised me. He was a pleasant man, aside from his notoriety. I had a normal life, that of any other child born with noble blood. It wasn’t until the age of eleven when I noticed a uniqueness in me other children didn't possess,” he pauses. “On December 10, 1886 a full moon lit up the sky. I was in bed, remembering stories of knights in battle to help me sleep, but I kept tossing and turning. All of a sudden, my skin became extremely hot and itchy. I crawled out of bed, feeling drawn to my window. Light from the plump moon poured through it, bathing me in dim paleness. Pain shot through my body as my muscles tore from my skin, forcing me onto all fours. Bones crackled, sending ghastly noises into the still night. Finally, the pain subsided, allowing me to look at my reflection with utter repulsion. A black wolf stared back at me. I was so terrified, I jumped out of my window and into the woods, vowing never to return.”

I slink back on the couch as my thoughts dissemble. This must be what pure madness sounds like. He escaped from a mental asylum and found his way to my home. This is his defect - he’s a nut case. I remain quiet, waiting for him to continue. He glances at me anxiously for a reaction, but my poker face doesn’t falter.

He clears his throat in discomfort. “After a few hours, I fell asleep on the river bank, exhausted. I woke up in blinding sunlight, surrounded by my uncle’s guards. I had no explanation for it, and since I was young, no one really thought twice about it.”

I shake my head in disbelief. These sorts of things don't exist in my world. Ghosts? I believe in them. It's the werewolves and vampires that give me a hard time. My reasoning must have been taken hostage, because a small part of me actually wants to believe him.

“What are you thinking?”

I exhale dramatically.
What am I thinking?
I have no idea where to start. “I should call the police.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“No… I don’t know! That is one helluva story to tell someone you barely know and then expect them to believe it!” 

“I understand, but you have to try,” he pleads. “I don't tell a lot of people my story.”

“I would hope not,” I reply snidely.

His face turns sour. I plant my backside firmly on the couch, crossing my arms. I stare into his blue eyes to prove a point, but instead, find myself swimming in them like a lagoon. Sporadic shades of yellow pop into his irises like fireworks, finally wrapping them in a blazing yellow hue. I gasp. His eyes are glowing yellow.

“What are you doing?” I ask apprehensively, pushing myself further into the couch.

He smirks. “Still don’t believe me?” he asks sarcastically.  

I shake my head in disbelief. Human eyes don’t glow like that. The glowing instantly vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“From the age of eleven to twenty-nine, I was able to control my shifts. On the eve of my twenty-ninth birthday, my uncle invited noble families and friends to my celebration. It was five to midnight and there was a full moon. I didn't think anything of it, since I'd experienced many full moons before that night. I was pretty talented at warding off unwanted switches… but this time, it was different. On the thirtieth year of a supernatural’s life cycle, the bond between a human and his magic solidifies. Think of it as an extreme growing pain. At the time, I was unaware of this transition. The clock struck twelve and my switch began. With no control, I was a wolf within minutes. Before anything awful could happen, I fled.”

“Where did you go?” My fascination was kicking in.
Remember, curiosity killed the cat,
Anna
.

“I lived in the woods for a week, exhausting my alternatives because too many ramifications came with them. I could never return home, but abandonment seemed so foreign to me,” he sighs, leaning into the loveseat. “I knew I had to return and explain… it was the least I could do. I didn’t know what to say… I’m a werewolf and was born this way?”

“So, at some point, you returned to your home?” I ask.

He nods. “I snuck in during the day, heading straight towards my room to shower and change my clothing. After descending the grand staircase, I warily noted the deafening sound of silence. Some silences have a way of hanging in the air," he sighs uneasily. "I surveyed the great room, finding furniture missing or covered in sheets. It didn't take long to figure out my uncle abandoned me. I walked through the house, trying to comprehend everything. Most furniture was gone except my piano and some food. A white envelope with my name printed in delicate cursive was taped to the keys of the piano. Inside, was a letter from my uncle apologizing for his departure. Since birth, he knew I was different, but hoped if he ignored it, my oddities would disappear on their own. One of my relatives also carried this special trait and his name was Duke Mentmore. He hoped by telling me this, I might be able to find more answers. My uncle relocated to a place he failed to include in his letter,” he finishes solemnly.

Valen falls silent, reliving the tragic event. “I lived in that same house, hoping for my uncle’s return. Days passed as I trained relentlessly, and became successful at overriding the variables that caused my shift. Once I trusted myself, I searched for the duke. Ten years it took me to track him down. Someone with such noble stature should have been easier to find...." he pauses, collecting his thoughts. "I traveled to the far corner of Alaska, to the city, Chefornak, and I found him there one hundred years ago.”

One hundred years ago? How is that possible? “Wait, one hundred years ago?” Valen looks like a fresh twenty-five. “How old are you?”

“Old,” he smiles. “Werewolves age extremely slowly.”

Apparently. “If you even age at all,” I mutter begrudgingly.

Valen ignores my snotty reply, continuing. “He knew I was coming long before I did. He’s capable of seeing bits of the future. He waited patiently for me and greeted me warmly. We sat in his simple home, which consisted merely of wood slices and rope. I asked him hundreds of questions, which he graciously answered. I begged him to live with me, but he prefers his solitude. He didn’t want to share his burden, or help carry another’s.”

In spite of everything, trust begins to grow inside me. What the hell is wrong with me? After weeks of inexplicable weirdness, this is the only thing that feels normal. I laugh inwardly, wondering if I’m the one who needs a mental health evaluation. “Why didn't your uncle tell you about this?”