The Wolf's Daughter (The Tala Chronicles 1) (4 page)

Then something in
the drawer that looked like a pendant caught her eye. It appeared to be
tarnished bronze, and the roughness of the piece made it seem very old. She
could make out some kind of beast with its fangs visible. She picked it up. A surge
of energy ripped through her body. She stuck it in her pocket, hoping to find
out more about it.

Then the phone rang.

“Tala.”

That voice
brought everything back to her she had spent ten years trying to forget.

“Matt.”

“Are you upset I
called you?”

“N-no. How did
you know I’m in town?”

“News travels
fast, Tala. Especially when you’re a detective. I wanted to tell you how sorry
I am about your mother.

“Thanks, Matt. I
appreciate it. But we weren’t close.”

“I figured that.”
He paused. “I was wondering if you’d go out to dinner with me. There’s so much
I want to tell you in person. You broke off so suddenly—not that I didn’t
understand why, though. And that’s another thing I have to say I’m so sorry
about.”

Tala bit her
lip. “Well, not tonight, anyway. I’m exhausted from traveling. Did your source
also tell you I have a broken foot, and I’m not exactly a fashion model right
now with this heavy boot?”

Matt laughed. “As
I remember, you never were.”

“Gee, thanks.”
The same old Matt. “How’s your family?”

“Oh, Mom and Dad
are fine, and would you believe this, I’m even an uncle now and…”

***

“Thanks so much
for inviting me over,” Debbie said, her teacup poised midway to her lips.

Tala smiled. “Thank
you
for supplying the milk. I could only find tea and cookies.”

“What I want to
know about is the conversation with Matt. You were so vague,” Vanessa said.

“We’ll talk
about that later. First, I want to show you something.” She dug the pendant out
of her pocket. “Any ideas on this.”

Debbie reached
for it. “This looks old, very old. I’m not sure what kind of animal it is, but
it certainly looks ferocious.”

“So it’s not a
witchcraft symbol?”

“No…not that I
can tell. Wait a minute… I
have
seen this design before. It was in a
book, but I don’t remember the name of it.”

Tala leaned
forward. “What was the book about?”

“It talked about
werewolves. How—”

“So they really
exist?”

Debbie set her
tea down on the side table. “Absolutely, and what happened with some families
is the werewolf strain weakened from intermarriage with non-werewolves. So what
were left were called Violents and Violent Makers.”

Chills ran
through Tala as she remembered her mother talking about the strains after her
father’s murder. “What else do you remember?”

“When those with
the strain neared adulthood, the Violent Makers had the power to cause the
Violents to have burning rage, which ended in savagery and carnage.” Debbie
scrunched her lips to one side and then continued. “When a Violent Maker is
starting to affect a Violent, the Violent Maker’s eyes change to a lighter
color and glow.”

Tala’s breath
caught. That’s what Matt had said about her eyes that night in the cemetery.

Vanessa seemed
unusually quiet. “What about you, Vanessa? What do you think about all this?” She
took the pendant from Debbie and held it out to Vanessa.

“I don’t want to
touch it.”

“Why?”

“I have a bad
feeling about it. Like it’s an amulet of some kind.”

“Okay.” Tala
pocketed it again. “Debbie, do you remember reading anything about how you can
get rid of the strains?”

Debbie bit her
lip. “Yes, but the ritual is hidden knowledge. The book said the only way to
remove the Violent Maker strain is to find a Violent who knows the secrets. It’s
very dangerous, though, because the Violent Maker often sets off the Violent
before the ritual can be completed, and then the Violent Maker is killed.”

Tala pressed her
lips together in a determined line and then sighed. “Debbie, is there any way
the Violent strain can be removed?”

“The author of
the book wouldn’t reveal it. Instead of the possibility of just one person, the
Violent Maker, being killed to remove the strain, the ritual to remove the
Violent strain put the lives of many people at risk.”

A sad silence
filled the room for a while. Then Debbie touched Tala’s arm. “I’m not going to
ask you why you’re so interested in these subjects, and I sense it’s none of my
business, but I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more information.”

“Thanks, Debbie.
I appreciate what you told me. It’s a lot to digest. Let’s change the subject
now.”

Vanessa nodded. “Great
idea.”

“The whole trip
to Wolfeboro, you didn’t tell me anything about you, Vanessa. What’s been going
on with you?”

“What could be
going on here? Same old, same old. Of course, I miss my ex. I guess he just
wanted an ever-young cheerleader. He left me comfortable, though, and I enjoy
selling real estate. Which reminds me, what about your house? Are you going to
sell it?”

“Actually,”
Debbie broke in, “I’m just dying to buy this house, and I wanted to talk to you
about it today. The aura’s great with it right next to the graveyard.”

“But your house
is just next door.”

Debbie swallowed
her mouthful of cookie. “Doesn’t matter. This is still much better. And that
blackthorn tree...worth its weight in gold.”

“What do you
mean?”

“Not many of
them around. They’re very spiritual.” 

“I didn’t know
any of that, but I’ve always liked it—the way it looks all spindly, thorny, and
threatening in the fall and winter, and then come spring, it softens with white
flowers, almost like a good omen.”

“Yes, very well
said.” Debbie nodded her head. “But there’s a dark history to that tree. I’m
surprised you don’t know about it.”

“What do you
mean?” Tala said, and Vanessa sat closer to the edge of the sofa.

“It’s hundreds
of years old, and it was the killing tree.”

“The killing
tree?”

“Yes, vigilantes
favored it among all others.”

“How do you know
all this?” Vanessa asked.

“One of the
librarians told me last year. She died recently. What was her name? Cecilia?
No, Cecily. That was it. She knew everything about the town, even the darkest
parts.”

“I wish I had
spoken with her,” Tala said.

“Oh, that can be
arranged.” Debbie smiled.

Tala put her
head to one side. “Hmmm. That might be—”

“I’m not waiting
one minute longer. Vanessa placed her teacup on the coffee table. I insist on
hearing about your conversation with Matt.”

“There’s nothing
juicy to tell you. We just played catch-up. He asked me out to dinner tonight,
and I told him to call back this afternoon.”

“So, are you
going?”

“I don’t even
know yet.”

“Well, I feel I’m
in the dark about him,” said Debbie.

Tala gave her
the shorthand version of the story.

“Oh, how passionate
and romantic. It seems as though you have some kind of power over him...like
what we were—”

“Debbie, I wish
you hadn’t said that.”

“I just have to
be honest, and that’s my opinion. Now where is that beautiful black cat? Call
her, won’t you, Tala?”

***

After Vanessa
and Debbie left, Tala had more questions than before. And what was she going to
do about Matt? She’d have to wait until he called to make up her mind.

She decided to climb
the narrow stairs to the attic. The thought terrified her, but she might find
out some answers there while digging through old trunks and furniture. When she
opened the door leading to the attic stairs, a cold shroud enveloped her. The
anemic light from a dusty bulb hanging overhead did little for her confidence.
She took the stairs carefully with her broken foot parallel to the steps and
putting her weight on her heel. It was painstaking, but she went slowly, not
wanting to incur any more injury. She focused on a faint outline of a drawing
on the wall. It had some resemblance to the pendant. More questions.

When she reached
the top of the stairs, the half-light of the attic gave her little consolation.
Cobwebs upholstered the boxes, trunks, and furniture. Her mother had never
allowed her in the attic, and she’d been too terrified to go there, anyway. She
had a guilty feeling as she surveyed the room.

A trunk
plastered with destination stamps—London, Rome, Cairo—first drew her attention.
The top wouldn’t budge. A thought popped into her mind—look underneath the
trunk. Sure enough, the black wrought iron key lay there. Tala inserted the key
in the lock. It clicked.  She started to open the trunk...but stopped.

Someone was downstairs.

Chapter Four

She peeked out
the grimy round window. A burgundy Cadillac hugged the curb. Tala walked to the
stairway. “Who’s there?”

A man in a black
suit appeared in the downstairs doorway. Hulking build. Dark hair with some
gray around the temples. Piercing eyes. He cracked his knuckles. “You must be Tala.
Your mother told me a lot about you.”

She folded her
arms. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

“Hmm. Who am I?
That’s an interesting question.” He flashed a feral grin. “And the answer is so
much more than just my name. But all you have to know, my dear, is your mother cut
a deal with me for the contents of the house. I gave her money. She gave me a
key.”

“I don’t know
anything about that...and I’m not your
dear
.”

“Your ignorance means
nothing to me. I have a receipt,
my dear
.” He held up a crumpled piece
of paper covered with script, numbers, and coffee stains. The man put his foot
on the first step.

“Don’t you dare
come up here.” She fisted her hand and then dug for her pocketed cell phone.
She drew it out.

He took another
step. “She also said she wanted to sell the house to me, but I didn’t want to
spend the money then. I’m willing to take it off your hands now, though.” The
man took two more steps.

“Oh yeah, think
again. As a matter of fact, if you don’t get out right now, I’ll call the
police.” She held up her cell phone, ready to punch in numbers.

He glared at
her, and took another step.

“I’m warning
you—”

“You’ll hear
from my lawyer.” The man cracked his knuckles again. Then he turned and stomped
away, calling back, “
My dear
.”

The first thing
she did was call information. Tala got the name of a locksmith and arranged for
him to change the locks. Then she went downstairs to make sure the man had left.
The car was no longer at the curb. But what did that mean? He could have moved
it and come back to the house. She searched everywhere on the first floor.

And what if he’d
gone to the basement?

She didn’t
relish the idea of going to that moldy underworld. Tala couldn’t think of an
alternative, though. She couldn’t shake the idea she wasn’t alone. How could
she ever fall asleep wondering if... She hobbled to the basement door, Maeve
following. When she opened it, a wall of mildew hit her.

Maeve spat.

She fumbled for
the light switch but found a curtain of cobwebs. Shrieking, she rubbed her hand
on her jeans. “I hate cobwebs. I hate cobwebs…and I hate what lives on them.”
Oh
great.
If he
were
down there, now because of her big mouth, he knew
she was coming. Her fingertips moved over the cement Braille, and this time
found the switch. Naturally, the bulb had blown.

She scrounged
around looking for a bulb or a flashlight. Tala found a flashlight in the
pantry, but the batteries didn’t work. In all her foraging, she hadn’t come
across any batteries. That clinched it. She wouldn’t go to the dark basement.

And where was
the locksmith? He’d said he’d be right over.

When she
returned to the attic, she went back to the trunk. Tala wasn’t sure if the man’s
receipt would hold up, but she knew she had a lot of work to do. She opened the
top quickly this time. She rummaged through the old-fashioned clothing,
high-buttoned shoes, fringy flapper outfits, and somber long black dresses with
tucks and embroidery. Disappointed she didn’t find anything of interest, she
turned her attention to a box in the corner.

It was the kind
used to store files. It called to her, compelling her to examine it. Tala removed
the top and surveyed the pieces of old newspaper sticking up out of the
folders. She went for the ones that looked the oldest, the sepia ones.

The first ragged
folder she pulled out reeked of mold. Tala opened it and flinched. A picture of
a body tied to a tree. The head barely attached, the arms missing. Where the
heart should have been, a gaping hole. She stared at the photo for a long time,
and then realized the scene was familiar to her. The tree seemed to be the
blackthorn in front of the house. She couldn’t be sure, and there was no
evidence of the house in the picture, but she had a strong feeling someone had
taken it on the family property.

Only a few
sentences of the story remained with the photo. She could make out the words “found
dead” and “left three children.” The part of the caption remaining mentioned “Marlin
Edwards.” She remembered her mother telling her about her great-great-uncle,
Marlin Edwards. He’d been an esteemed member of the family. However, Edwards
was a banker who had accrued a pack of enemies, but his murder had remained an
unsolved case.  

Tala jumped at
the blaring ring of the house phone downstairs. She guessed it was Matt, and
she wished she had given him her cell phone number. She didn’t expect to make
it downstairs in time, but maybe he’d call back. And if he didn’t... Then the
situation would take care of itself.