Long Shadows: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 2 (12 page)

“Is that what you call it? So you’re still one of those soul things?”

“That’s how I can be here and there at the same time. Don’t worry, I’m a fully functional ‘soul thing,’ and your sauce smells incredible.”

“It’s my aunt’s sauce, not mine, although I have the recipe.” I smiled. “I only wish she’d left me some ravioli too. I’ll have to bring some sauce back to Little Rock with me and try it with Giuliano’s cannelloni.”

“Giuliano?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Giancarlo’s brother. He’s a chef.”

I didn’t think his eyebrows could go any higher, but they did. “A chef?”

“Yes, why are you so surprised? They’re Italian.”

He shook his head. “I wish I could tell you, but it would be in direct conflict with my orders.”

“Your orders from whom?”

“I can’t tell you that, either.”

I put one hand on my hip and brandished the spoon menacingly. A drop of sauce dribbled off the end and splattered on the floor like red-orange blood. “What do you mean, you can’t tell me? What will happen if you do?”

“You might react, which might change the course of events, and we’re not allowed to interfere with the mortal plane.”

I put the spoon down and wiped the spot on the floor with a paper towel. “I would challenge you more, but I’m tired and upset, and I know you could talk circles around me. If you’re not allowed to change the course of events because of how I might react, why are you here? Don’t you know that the act of being observed changes behavior, especially if someone knows they’re being observed?”

He shrugged. “I follow the rules, but I don’t necessarily agree with them. Someone should have prepared you for this, and I’m shocked—” He shook his head. “I’m just surprised at how ignorant you are of who and what you are. It puts you at a grave disadvantage.”

A shadow in the yard caught my attention, and I looked outside but didn’t see anything suspicious.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I think I just saw something.” I rubbed my eyes. “It could be nothing, though. I’ve had a strange morning, so my mind could be playing tricks on me.”

He disappeared, and I spun around, looking all over the kitchen.
 

“Dammit! Don’t
do
that!” I bit my lip, tears coming to my eyes again. “If you’re going to bail on lunch, at least be polite and tell me. Actually, telling me you were dropping by in the first place would have been nice.”

I wished I’d taken a closer look at that Book of Shadows Joanie had made me read parts of. Maybe there was a spell for protecting a house from uninvited guests.

My cell phone rang. I answered it without looking, sure it was Joanie.

“Ms. Marconi, this is Delores calling from your primary care doctor’s office. I just wanted to remind you of your appointment with Doctor Fortuna at eight o’clock on Thursday…” She went through the usual cancellation policy and fees, which I didn’t pay attention to since they never changed. She caught my attention again when she said, “Oh, and the doctor would like a word with you. Hold, please.”

Max picked up and said, “I just wanted to apologize for my abruptness today. We can speak more on Thursday at your appointment.”

I got the hint he was concerned we’d be listened to, but I still raised an eyebrow. “I might not make it. I’m out of town. Death in the family and all.”

“I highly encourage you to do so. We have a lot to discuss about your situation and your blood work results.”

That did pique my interest, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. “I’ll let you know by Wednesday morning if I won’t be there.” And with that, I hung up.

I ate lunch quickly and returned to my aunt’s work room. I ignored the little thud my heart gave when it occurred to me he might not be popping in anymore. It further motivated me to figure out my aunt’s secrets so if I did get my inner wolf back, I’d know what the heck she was.

Aunt Alicia had a desk with a file drawer, but it didn’t hold anything of interest to me—just a few bank statements and other things I would likely have to deal with later. The things I wanted, the family-related documents, were still hidden. I looked at the floor. Some of the tiles were lighter than others, something that hadn’t shown up until the sun was immediately overhead and shining directly through the skylight.

I tapped my lips with the nail of one index finger.
What could those mean? They’re not in a regular pattern, but they don’t look random, either. Gladis Ann said to let the light be my guide.
I knelt on the floor and looked at one with a magnifying glass either my aunt or Gladis Ann—I just couldn’t think of them as the same person—must have used for reading the tiny print in mail. Sure enough, the lighter ones had some sort of reflective material as part of the composite. I leaned forward a little more, and the tile under my right knee tilted on some sort of central axis. I scooted back and looked at it, one of the shiny ones, which now angled away from me slightly. I could move it with my hand, but it wouldn’t come out.

So it’s meant to move. Maybe the others are as well.
I tried all the tiles starting with the one nearest the one that had moved, but none budged.
Is there a certain order to them?
I tilted the tile back and tried again. There were fourteen of the little squares with the sparkling composite. I quickly did the math in my head—there would be a lot of trial and error before I figured out the order, if there was one. As the light moved away, the different ones became less and less visible until my eyes tired, and I struggled to remember which ones they were. Whoever had made the composite material for them had done his or her job well. Without sunlight, all the tiles looked the same.

Is there a key? She said to look with my eyes and my heart, and the past is my key.

By this time, the sun had gone past the skylight and had started to set behind the ridge to the west, bathing the view and the house in shadow. I returned to the living room and looked again at the bookshelves, trying to see if I had missed anything. The photographs continued to taunt me, and I picked up another one. It was one of my parents’ wedding pictures. My father carried my mother down the church steps. Both of them looked excited and happy, and I couldn’t help but smile at their exultant expressions. Aunt Alicia stood behind them in a puff-sleeved bridesmaid’s dress, an indulgent look on her face as she held my mother’s long veil. On the back, in pencil: Alicia, Julia, and Robert, 1973. I replaced it and stepped back, trying to remember the placement of the shiny tiles. They seemed to correspond to where the photographs were on the shelves. Each photograph had a date, and there were fourteen of them.

I grabbed a pad of paper out of my aunt’s work room and drew fourteen squares to correspond with the photographs and the tiles. I filled in the dates, but I didn’t rush. I savored each photograph, many of them moments from my mother’s life. It wasn’t until she was in her late twenties and holding a baby me—that one made me tear up—and Aunt Alicia was in her mid thirties that they looked like they might be eight years apart in age, although Aunt Alicia still looked too young. None of the photographs showed my aunt with a beau, only with family. I wondered if there was a part of her she’d kept hidden from the world and if I would find it once I solved the puzzle of her history…
and mine.

Chapter Ten

I could have studied the photographs all afternoon, but my stomach rumbled.

What would I tell my clients in this situation? Probably to get out of the house. I’m driving myself crazy thinking every creak is Max or Peter coming to visit me.

Since I probably couldn’t live on cookies and pasta—not that I really had a problem with that, but I did pretend to be a grownup and eat vegetables occasionally—I decided to venture out to get groceries and grab a bite to eat. I threw a cooler with some ice packs in Maddie’s trunk to keep the perishable stuff cold on the long drive back and eased down the driveway. A flash of gray and white feathers in the pines made me stop the car and squint.

“Max?” I whispered, remembering his earlier appearance as a seagull, but the trees’ branches didn’t move.
It’s not paranoia if they’re not out to get you…

The nearest town was Mountain Vale. In spite of its picturesque name, it wasn’t another revamped and renamed community like Crystal Pines. Sure, some of the smaller houses I remembered from our visits up here during my childhood had been replaced by those pre-fab faux log cabin monstrosities, but a lot of them were the originals with the same names scrawled on the mailboxes. Most of the lawns sported signs—
United Citizens for Responsible Use of Resources
,
Logging Is Our Life - Don’t Take It Away
,
Keep North Georgia Beautiful
, and simply,
Trees!

Same old arguments, new generation.
Aunt Alicia had originally moved up here in the seventies to work with the local governments on responsible use of resources. Did they miss her? No one had called the house looking for her, but I wondered if there was a paper I should place an obituary in. She had taken care of those arrangements for my parents.
Gladis Ann said the funeral home would be in touch. I used to help people with this stuff all the time. Why is it so hard to do it myself?

One change was that the local grocery store had been replaced by a larger chain, which I guessed was inevitable.
Still, there was a heaviness like homesickness in my chest when I remembered the assorted light fixtures and wooden racks of Goomer’s Groceries. The new store with its cold fluorescent lighting and rows of metal shelves wasn’t very crowded, but I was close enough to hear two women talking in the dairy section as I pondered how much milk I would need.

“Did you hear the wolves last night?” one of them asked. I turned my head slightly to hear her better and caught a glimpse of yellow sweatshirt.

“Oh, yes, they woke Daniel from the soundest sleep. I coulda taken Ray’s shotgun and shot them myself, and damn the environmentalists! It took me forever to get that baby back to bed.”

The first one tsked. “I don’t remember seein’ wolves on the reintroduction plan. Are they even native to this part of the country?”

“Well, there was that big black one that my mother talked about seeing from time to time, but it hasn’t been seen ‘round here in years. She always thought it had somethin’ to do with that eye-talian lady who came here to help out the tree-huggers in the sixties—no, seventies.”

Goose bumps raised on my arms.
They’re talking about Aunt Alicia!
I took a deep breath, plastered a pleasant expression on my face, and turned around. The two women had moved on, but I had gotten a good enough look to tell who they were. I grabbed a half gallon of milk and followed the one who started the conversation at a polite distance. She was easy to keep track of in her bright clothing, but she didn’t talk to anyone else. I did happen to run into the one who had talked about the baby in the parking lot. Her SUV was two spaces down from Maddie. I caught her eyeing my car with envy.

“Good evening,” I said, inviting her to start the conversation.

“Evenin’.” She loaded the last of her bags into her car and pushed the cart past me to the corral. “That’s not really a practical car for up here.”

“Oh, I’m just up visiting my aunt, who’s sick.”

The small town creed declares no birth, death, or illness shall go unnoticed, and she took the bait. “Who’s your aunt?”

“Alicia Gannadisi,” I told her, and darnit, my eyes teared up with my saying her name.

“Oh, honey,” she said and put a hand on my shoulder. “Is she that bad?”

“I’m sorry,” I said and let the tears flow. “I c-c-couldn’t say it, but she died last night.” The sobs that rose from my chest were real, as were their effect on the lady.

“I’m so sorry,” she said and hugged me, which was interesting since she was a good six inches shorter than I. The hug was genuine, though, like she tried to squeeze me in two. She stepped back. “Is there anything I can do? We can fix meals for you.” She eyed the half gallon of milk, cereal, and microwave dinners in my trunk with a look that said, “since you obviously don’t cook much.”

“No, thank you. I just don’t know what to do. She called me two nights ago to tell me she was in the hospital, and I barely made it before she passed. Heart disease.”

She nodded. “Sometimes it happens quick, and it’s a mercy for the person, but hard on the family. Here, let me see what I can do. Are you staying at the house? Is Gladis Ann still there?”

“Yes, and no. Gladis Ann had to leave for a family emergency right after my aunt…”

“Trouble always comes in threes,” she said, or rather intoned. “Well, then, you’re really all alone. Come to dinner tonight. My husband got a big deer this weekend, and we’ve got more than enough.”

“Oh, I couldn’t impose on you like that!” Her clothes and car made me suspect they didn’t have extra resources for unexpected guests.

“It’s no problem at all. Ray is a wiz with venison, and we need help eating the meat. It’s not all gonna fit in the freezer.”

“Thank you,” I said. An extra twinge of grief twisted my gut—I’d been listening for my inner wolf to weigh in on getting to eat deer, which she hadn’t gotten to do very often since it took a well-coordinated pack to bring one down, and we were usually not that organized.

I got directions from the woman Claire, and we agreed I would arrive there at seven so she could get the baby to bed first.