The Wolf's Daughter (The Tala Chronicles 1) (8 page)

It is time to
go. I did not say goodbye to anyone else except my brother Gunther because only
he could tell me how to get to the cottage. I hope my clothes and my supplies
will last me. The sack cannot be too heavy, or I doubt I will get very far. Tala,
if you read this, remember how much this old woman loves you.

The text ended
there. The last sentence brought Tala to tears. Such a short diary, yet how
much information it divulged.

Her father had said
her grandmother had just disappeared one day.  

What could she
do now? And then the idea formed—speak to Gunther. If he were still alive.

***

“I can’t believe
you talked me into doing this.” Edgar Owl sat next to Tala in his truck outside
the nursing home.

Tala smiled. “Don’t
you know how grateful I am? Besides, just think of it as an adventure.”

A loud sigh
escaped through his lips. “I might be getting too old for an adventure. But
okay, let’s go see Gunther. At his age, though, don’t be disappointed if we don’t
get much information.”

An acrid odor overpowered
Tala when they walked into Gunther’s room. His bureau held black-and-white and
sepia-toned pictures. An ancient Bible lay on his nightstand.

“He’s been sleeping
for a half hour,” the nurse said. “It would be a shame to wake him.” She
frowned but left the room.

Tala was
grateful for the privacy. She noted the man’s quiet breathing, the breaths
barely making his chest rise. “Gunther, I’m Tala, Louisa’s grandchild.”

Gunther still
appeared to be sleeping.

Tala looked at
Edgar. “It’s no use, is it?”

“Don’t give up
so easily.”

Tala bent down
to Gunther’s ear. “Gunther, where’s Louisa?” she asked in a loud voice.

The old man
opened his cloudy eyes and coughed. He mumbled something.

She touched his
hand. “I can’t hear you. Please try again.”

“Told her don’t go,”
he said in a raspy voice.

His voice
startled her. “Go where, Gunther?”

“Cottage.”
Gunther coughed again. “Wouldn’t listen.”

“Can you tell me
how to get there?”

“Boulder.” He
stared at the ceiling. “Brook.”

“What else,
Gunther?”

“Wolf...trail.”
His eyelids closed halfway. “Stream.” Then they shrouded his eyes completely,
and he snored.

“Edgar, do you think
you can find the cottage now?”

“I might be able
to, Tala, but I can’t make any promises.”

Tala kissed
Gunther on the forehead. “Come on, Edgar, let’s let him rest.”

“How about
starting out tomorrow?” Tala asked Edgar when they got into the truck.

He twisted his
mouth to one side, his hands on the worn steering wheel. Then he turned to her
and smiled. “Okay, we’ll give it a try.”

“Great. Let’s go
pick up things we’ll need for the trip.”

***

The locksmith’s
truck chugged down Blackthorn Road and stopped in front of the house at about
five o’clock.

Tala started
getting out of the truck, but Edgar touched her arm. “Wait. Be sure you’re
where you need to be before nightfall. It’s a full moon tonight.”

“Okay, Edgar,
thanks. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

When she opened
the front door, Maeve’s angry-sounding meows greeted her.

“I’m sorry for
leaving you so long. I have some treats for you. Let’s have dinner early
tonight.” Edgar’s warning haunted her. At least she was home, but she still
wanted to do more searching in the attic, although she didn’t relish the idea of
being up there with the anemic attic light.

While she was
eating a hamburger, her cell phone rang.

“What have you
been up to?” Vanessa asked.

Tala swallowed. “Well.”
She took a sip of soda. “I’m planning an adventure with Edgar Owl.”

“Isn’t he a
little old to have an adventure with?”

“It’s obviously
not what you’re thinking.”

“Well, what is
it?”

“I learned a lot
when I read the diary, and I think the only way I can get to the bottom of this
is to try to find my Uncle Gregory.”

“And where might
he be?”

“Vanessa, don’t
you know? I thought the whole town knew about him.”

“Oh yes, now I
remember. He was the one who supposedly ran off into the woods a long time ago
and no one ever found him. I think he was implicated in the Bolton murder.”

“Yes, that’s
right.”

“So, that sounds
dangerous to me.”

“It’s the only
way.”

“It’s suicidal,
you know, to even think about going there by yourself.”

“Who said
anything about going there by myself?”

“You’re going
with Matt?”

“No, silly.
That
might
really
be dangerous. I already told you. I’m planning an adventure
with Edgar Owl.”

“Oh, Tala, I’m
so relieved you’re going with him. What is he—like ninety years old?”

“I think he’s
only pushing eighty.”

“Oh well, that
makes a big difference. Tala, this is the most harebrained scheme I’ve ever
heard about. I don’t want you to go.”

“I have to,
Vanessa. If I find Gregory, he might be able to help me get rid of this…
whatever this is.”

“I guess I can’t
talk you out of it, can I?”

“No, you can’t.
But you could offer to come with me.”

“Oh no. Not me.
Picking you up at the airport is one thing. Risking my life in the forest is
another.”

“It’s okay. Can’t
say I blame you.”

“Listen, Tala, just
make sure you take flashlights, plenty of batteries, and your cell phone.”

***

“So, Vinnie. How
was it in jail?” Tony took a swig of beer and cut his steak.

Mrs. Miller came
to the table and sat down. Mr. Miller shoved a heaping fork load of mashed
potatoes in his mouth.

“I wasn’t in
jail. I was just there for questioning.”

“Aw, come on, Vinnie.
Act like a tough guy.”

“Cut it out, Tony.
I’m tired, and I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“I’m just—”

“Shut up, you punk,”
Mr. Miller yelled.

“Calm down, Pete,”
his wife pleaded.

“And you shut
up, too, Ellen,” he yelled even louder.

“I can’t take
this,” Tony said, getting up from the table with his plate and can of beer. He
walked to his room and slammed the door. After he finished his meal, he packed
the bag he’d bring with him that night. First, he put in his hunting knife.
Then he threw in latex gloves and a flashlight. Next, he included the duct
tape. He almost forgot the crowbar. Soon he’d be getting the satisfaction he deserved.

***

Tala knelt on
the attic floor and glanced out a window with a black-curtain view. The wind
moaned through the cracks in the walls, and the single bulb hanging sputtered
its light. Maeve’s company, some consolation.

Tala again scanned
the drawing that had frightened her so much. It still did. It seemed to
represent every angry, violent, and murderous tendency, though depicted through
a child’s eyes. She set it aside quickly. She’d try another box.

That one
contained more photos. The first showed a picture of a picnic table laden with
food and with a backdrop of evergreens. The next one was a group photo, but she
couldn’t recognize anyone in the group with certainty. Her grandmother, her
mother, and her uncle Gregory were probably there.

A photo lay facedown
in the box. She hesitated for a moment. Turning it over revealed a charming
cottage with window boxes brimming with flowers and a door decorated with painted
birds. If that was where she was heading, she doubted it would look the same
now.

A noise like
something falling on the floor traveled upstairs. The cat walked over to the
doorway.

“Maeve, come
here. It’s probably just the ice machine.” Maeve looked at her and growled.

Tala’s skin
prickled. Maeve usually reserved that growl for something serious. “Maybe we
should investigate.” Tala rose and walked to the door. Maeve rushed down ahead
of her. Raucous caterwauling came from the kitchen, and she considered calling
911, but she didn’t want to if it were only a false alarm. She slowly walked
down the stairs, trying not to make any noise, an impossible task in an old
house with ancient woodwork.

Tala crept down
the hall.

Maeve alternately
spat and growled.

Tala hesitated.
Maeve had been on her way to becoming feral when she found her, and she still
feared neither man nor beast. Tala had been surprised she hadn’t given Edgar a
hard time. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and stepped into the
kitchen.

Maeve resembled the
traditional Halloween black cat with arched back and fierce eyes. Bottlebrush
tail. She still growled. The reason—she’d cornered a huge rat. Tala breathed a
sigh of relief that Maeve had recently gotten her shots.

“Maeve, come
away from there.”

Of course, the
cat ignored her.

“Now what?” Somebody’s
name did come to mind. She resolved to put him on speed dial.

***

A loud shot rang
out, and Maeve tore out of the kitchen and ran up the attic stairs.

“Success. I’ll
clean up the mess,” Edgar called out.

“Oh, thank God.
I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sure my friend Vanessa
wouldn’t have had a clue about getting rid of that.”

When Edgar had finished
cleaning up, the kitchen didn’t have any evidence of the intruder. Tala sat
with him at the table.

Edgar took a sip
of chamomile tea. “I knew this was going to be a strange night. The thing is, I
don’t think the strangeness is over. When I walked outside at dusk, I saw four
owls flying to a tree. When I see only one, it gets my attention. But four…” He
shook his head. “Something’s going on. And then the fact that the cat cornered
a rat. That gets me thinking, too. And to top everything off—the full moon.”

“It’s probably
just all coincidence, Edgar. Now let’s not have our imaginations run away with
us.” Despite her brave words, she gulped.

He looked
pensive for a moment. “You’d be surprised what’s not imagination. The last time
I saw four owls flying into the same tree was the night Jenny Bolton was
killed.”

“Bolton? You
mean the person Gregory was blamed for killing?”

“Yes, she’s the
one. So sad…. She had those little children, too. An infant and two toddlers. It
had gotten late, and her husband had paced the floor, waiting for her to get
home from choir practice. He called his neighbor to come and watch the
children. He walked two blocks and saw something that looked like a pile of
clothes on the ground. It was Jenny. She’d been stabbed about fifty times, and bite
marks covered her body.”

“Okay, now you’re
scaring me, Edgar.” Tala crossed her arms over her chest.  

“Do you have a
gun?”

“Are you
kidding? I wouldn’t even know how to use one.”

“Well, why don’t
I show you? You can keep this one with you tonight.” He reached into his
holster and laid the gun on the table.

“Edgar, that gun
scares the heck out of me. Please put it back where it came from. But maybe
someday I’ll have the guts to learn how to shoot.”

“And I’ll be
happy to teach you.” He paused, pursing his lips. “If you need anything
tonight, make sure you call me, Tala. But I still wish you’d take the gun.”

“I just can’t,
but thanks for offering.”

Maeve finally
wandered back into the kitchen and jumped on the table. She sniffed Edgar and
then rubbed her head against his arm.

“This cat has
some strong magic in her,” he said as he petted her.

“You think so?
She’s just half wild. She even gnaws on my arms and ankles sometimes.”

“The strain in
her is like the strain in some people.”

“Tell me more
about that, Edgar.”

“That is not for
your ears, Tala. I’ve hinted at that before. You must learn it on your own.” Edgar
glanced at the clock and stood up. “I better go. We’ve got to start out early
tomorrow, and we need a lot of rest. I still don’t think it’s a good idea for
you to walk on that foot.”

“I’ll be fine,
Edgar. I’m wearing the boot, and I’ll put only partial weight on it.” She put
her hand on his arm. “Please, I have to resolve this situation. It’s the only
way.”

Edgar looked
into her eyes for a while and then finally nodded. Tala followed him to the
front door. “Wait, Edgar. Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I don’t know.
You probably remind me of my daughter.”

“Where is your
daughter?”

Edgar’s eyes
filled with tears, and it took a while before he answered. “My daughter was
Jenny Bolton.”

Chapter Eight

After Edgar left,
Tala sat at the table again, feeling shocked and still very afraid. Poor Edgar,
losing his daughter that way. She’d definitely leave all the lights on that
night. And hoped there wasn’t a blackout.  

She stayed up as
long as she could, but when she couldn’t fight sleep any longer, she picked up
Maeve and hobbled over to the chair lift. Tala pressed her back against the
chair, and the lift slowly rose. A chill overtook her. Shadows haunted the
second floor as she neared the top. She held Maeve closer.

Tala climbed
into bed. She should have taken Edgar up on his offer of the gun. But no, she’d
be in even greater danger with it if someone used it against her.

Her foot hurt
more than usual. Would she be able to walk deep into the forest? Tala had to
admit Edgar was right. It wasn’t a good idea, but at least she didn’t need the
crutches anymore, and she could put partial weight on her foot. Besides, unique
circumstances called for out-of-the-ordinary action.

Her cell phone
ringing jangled her nerves. She reached for it on the nightstand.

“Tala?”

“Vanessa?” She
looked at the clock. “It’s a little late.”