I brought up an online map of the affected countryside and used a tool to circle the three attacks.
"Okay. These are the places we know about. Old Ben's farm, my aunt and uncle's place, and the Depot." I leaned back and frowned. "My aunt and uncle live close to the squash patch, but the Depot's pretty far from those two."
"Then we might assume that during the day the sheep resides somewhere between them," Roland guessed. He used his finger to circle the area between the Depot and the squash patch. "Do you know of anyone in that area who has sheep?"
I snorted. "Only about two dozen hobby farmers. Even with Mary's little lamb hanging in a meat locker after the fair, there's still a bunch of people who raise them for their wool."
Roland pursed his lips and his eyes flitted over the screen. "Then we can make no further move until the sheep does."
I shook my head. "I can't believe we're playing chess with a were-sheep, and losing."
"We'll lose badly if we don't find the sheep tomorrow night," Roland added.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Why? Is he going to skip town?"
"No. Tomorrow night is the last night of the werewolf's full moon. It won't change for another month, and we may lose its trail entirely if the farmer has it killed," he explained.
"So if a human eats its flesh-"
"Then they, too, become a were," he told me.
"So what are we looking for here? Is this a foreign invasion or what?" I wondered.
"The sheep might be local, and was attacked by a wandering werewolf," he suggested.
"So now we might be dealing with a hobo werewolf who's creating a flock of the damned?" I guessed.
He shook his head. "I don't believe so. You saw only the one. If there was more they would travel as a pack. More likely the sheep somehow survived an attack by a werewolf passing through the area and the curse was transferred into its body."
"All right. Let's assume we do find this leggy lycan. What do we do with it? Sprinkle its wool with silver and it goes back to munching on straw instead of squash?" I asked him.
"Silver is the only element that will kill it, and it must be destroyed. There's no cure for those afflicted with the werewolf curse," he revealed.
I frowned and looked past him at the soul box on the coffin table. "I don't think killing a sheep was in the soul box contract."
"Would you rather your aunt and uncle live in fear of their lives every four days out of the month?" he countered.
I glared at him. "That's low, and even lower because that argument makes sense. So what do we do?"
"Perhaps the farmer reported an attack on his sheep. The police would consider it an attack by a wild dog and there would be a report filed," Roland pointed out. "You must find the report and learn the location of the farm where the sheep resides."
"And then what? I don't think I could convince the farmer to let me use his sheep for silver-bullet target practice," I argued.
"Don't go to the farm until I can go with you. Even in its normal form it can still pass on the curse with a single bite," he warned me.
"But I have work tomorrow, and I don't think Ralph's going to let me off if I tell him I'm trying to save everyone from a woolen sweater that's rampaging the countryside and murdering everyone's squash," I reminded him.
Roland grinned. "I have faith that you can think of a better excuse than that."
I sighed and shrugged. "Maybe he'll believe I have the plague."
"And would give it to his customers?" Roland guessed.
"No, to him. He'd only care about the customers if they kicked the bucket before they paid their bill," I told him.
"If it would be that much trouble then I can go alone," he suggested.
"If you do then you'd better not get bitten. I don't want to have to deal with a were-pire every night, and you'd probably bring fleas into the apartment," I quipped.
"My undead curse prevents me from having a living curse," he assured me.
I turned away from him and crossed my arms over my chest. "Well, don't get yourself mauled, then. You look better the way you are then as a piece of hamburger. Hey!" Roland spun the chair around so I faced him.
He set his hands on either arm of the chair and looked at me with those dazzling blue eyes. "I'll be careful. I swear it."
I blushed and looked away. "Well, less swearing and more sleeping. The sun'll be up soon."
Roland leaned away from me and chuckled. "Very well, and good luck on your search."
I hopped out of the chair and shrugged. "It'll probably only take an hour or two."
CHAPTER 7
"Only an hour or two, huh, Misty?" I mumbled to myself.
The time was one in the afternoon, and the location was the police station in Northton. The police bureaucracy worked at the speed of snot on a cold day. The kind of cold day where snot congested in your nose like a bad pipe clog. One of the uniformed officers walked over to where I sat near the front desk and smiled at me.
"You requested information on animal attacks?" he asked me.
I stood and nodded. "Yep. You got something for me?"
"No. I just came over to tell you the report won't be ready until tomorrow," he explained.
I raised an eyebrow. "Is there an epidemic of dog attacks on livestock?"
"No, but we have to go through the proper procedures to release discovery. You understand," he replied. I recognized a bureaucratic brushoff when I met one.
"Well, thanks anyway," I told him.
I shuffled back to my apartment and slept like a log until my alarm went off. I groped around for the clock and my flailing hand smacked something sharp and pointed.
"Ouch!" I yelped.
I pulled back my hand and opened my eyes. My bed was the couch, and my false alarm clock was Roland's soul box. I sat up and rubbed my hand while I glared at the box.
"You're really trying to end your days as firewood. . ." I muttered.
"Pardon?" Roland called from the kitchen.
I turned and looked over the back of the couch at him. A sizzling pan of bacon sat in front of him on the burner.
"You planning on sucking those strips dry or are those for me?" I asked him.
"They would hardly whet my appetite," he returned.
"Mine's ready. By the way, I went to the police station, but they couldn't get the reports I wanted before the end of the day," I told him.
Roland frowned and flipped a strip. "I see. That forces us to search by air and foot.
I groaned and stood. "It forces you. This working girl's gotta work before my bank account feels the pinch from my wallet," I reminded him as I slipped into my bedroom for a change of scenery, and clothes.
"There would be an advantage to two pairs of eyes," he persisted.
"These pairs of eyes aren't exactly built for sightseeing in the dark," I commented as I walked into the kitchen. I snatched some of the delicious strips from a nearby plate and scarfed them down. "Besides, you'll be fine without me. Just don't get trapped in a metal box again," I teased.
"I may, but half the adventure is the company that comes with you," he pointed out.
I swallowed my food and walked towards the front door. "Maybe, but my risky adventure for tonight is going to be serving Ralph's food to unsuspecting truckers."
Roland stepped in my way and grabbed my shoulders. I looked up and noticed he stared at me with a strange look in his eyes.
"I would gladly trade places with you if I could," he offered.
I snorted. "You don't look like my size." He tilted his head to one side and gave me his dazzling smile. I frowned. "You're doing that thing again," I told him.
"'Thing?'" he asked me.
"Yeah, that look thing," I explained.
"Could you elaborate?" he persisted.
"It's like you're trying to look into my soul." My eyes narrowed and flickered between the vampire and his soul box. "You already got a soul of your own, so no touching mine."
Roland chuckled
and released me. "It was your beauty I was admiring."
My cheeks glowed like Christmas lights. I pushed past him and grabbed my coat from the back of the chair. "Yeah, well, I'm not much to look at, but I've got to be going." I pulled one arm through the coat and made for the door. "Those hamburgers aren't going to slide across the plate without-" Roland caught my wrist and stopped me. I stared at the door.
"Misty, there's a question I've meant to ask you," he told me.
I stiffened. "Can it wait until later?"
"It can, but I'd rather it didn't," he replied.
"Then ask me later, okay?" I requested.
I pulled myself from his grasp and rushed out the door faster than a hamster on speed. My feet pounded down the stairs and I threw myself at my car that was parked out front. I opened my door and paused. My eyes turned up to the sky. The dark silhouette of Roland stood on the top of the apartment building.
I slipped into my car and drove to work. Ralph lowered his paper when I entered the kitchen through the back door.
"You're early," he commented.
"You know how I miss this place," I quipped as I pulled off my coat.
"Don't expect to get paid overtime," he warned me.
"I wouldn't dream of following any labor laws," I returned as I strode past him.
"Not when they cost me!" Ralph called after me.
I slipped behind the cash register and Candy walked behind the counter with an empty serving plate in her hand.
"You look like you just swallowed a whale," she told me.
"Or maybe some of Ralph's cooking, but I'm fine," I told her. Candy put the tray down and leaned towards me. I leaned back and frowned at her. "What?"
"I don't think I've ever seen you this ruffled," she explained.
I shrugged and looked away from her. "Maybe something's been prowling around my chicken coop."
"Honey, nothing gets near your chicken coop without your permission," she quipped. "Now 'fess up. It's a guy, isn't it?"
"He's something. . ." I muttered.
Candy grinned. "I knew it." She grabbed my hand and pulled me around the counter. We passed the tables and stools, and the men gawked at us.
"Hey! I'm going to need that hand later!" I told her.
"Come on. We need a quiet place for this," she insisted.
Candy dragged me into the women's bathroom and released me there. She had her back to the door like a prison guard and folded her arms over her ample chest.
"All right, spill it. What's wrong?" she questioned me.
"It's nothing, now can we-" I tried to pass her, but she stuck out her arm. I glared at her. "We're the last line of defense against Ralph's cooking. If one of us doesn't get out there somebody might die."
"Somebody's already hurt in here, now 'fess up," she persisted. "What has you so bothered that you're wearing your apron inside-out?"
I glanced down at myself. The apron was on the front, but it was definitely inside out. I growled and pulled it off.
"Damn it, Roland, why didn't you tell me. . ." I muttered.
"So Roland's his name?" Candy guessed.
"Right now I'd like to call him other things," I quipped.
"So what's going on between you and Roland? Something serious?" Candy asked me.
I corrected my apron and shrugged. "It's nothing. He's just my roommate."
Candy snorted. "I know I'm not very bright, but I do know more about relationships than you, and that sounds like a heavy relationship."
"There's nothing between us. All he does is sleep all day and go out at night," I assured her.
She frowned. "And you, the Queen of No-bullshit, put up with that? Why?"
"Why is everyone asking me that?" I growled.
"Because it's so not like you to put up with any shit," Candy pointed out.
"Maybe I feel sorry for him because he's got a bad case of narcolepsy. Happy?" I returned. I tried to get past her, but she stepped in my way.
"He's gotta have a hell of a story for you to be this smitten with him. What's he like?" she questioned me.
"Dark, brooding, and really, really pale, now can I get to work?" I pleaded.
Candy frowned and studied my face. She dropped her arm and glared at me. "All right, but I'm going to want answers sooner or later."
"We'll do the later. I'll have my people talk with your people," I quipped as I strode past her.
I walked out and to the main part of the diner. All the men looked in my direction. I folded my arms across my chest and glared at them.
"Keep staring and you're all drinking seconds of coffee," I warned them.
They whipped their heads away faster than the tilt-o-hurl ride at a carnival. I marched behind the counter and rang up a bill. Candy came out of the bathroom and grabbed her coat. She winked at me.
"Good luck with him," she teased.
Candy left, and an officer entered. He was dressed in the uniform for the Northton patrol and he took a stool at the counter.
"How's the coffee?" he asked me.
"It hasn't run away yet," I told him.
"Damn. I could use a strong cup of something," he returned.
"Problems at the office, officer?" I quipped.
"I'll take a cup. Black. No sugar. And yeah. One of the farmer's has a damn sheep that's been causing us problems the past few nights," he explained.
I slid him his cup and raised an eyebrow. "What sheep?" I asked him.
He took the cup in both hands and shrugged. "Just some sheep that hoodlums have been breaking out of the barn. One of them got itself hurt a week or so back and it's been nothing but trouble since then." He took a sip of his coffee and shuddered. "There was another breakout of the barn tonight and we got most of them in tonight, but that one's still missing."
My blood ran as cold as a freezer in mid-December in the middle of the Arctic. "Do you know which way it went?" I wondered.
He shrugged. "Nope, but I had to make a call to the Squash Festival guys to be on the lookout. Maybe it'll come wandering in looking for free handouts."
"Or free hands. . ." I murmured.
The cop looked up from his mug and frowned at me. "What was that?"
I straightened and smiled. "Oh, would you look at the time? I think I forgot to feed my pet alligator. Don't worry about the coffee, it's on the house."
"What?" I heard Ralph screech.
The swinging doors flung open and Ralph stood there with narrowed eyes. "What do ya think yer doing-"
"Not now, Ralph," I replied as I flung my apron in his face.
I rushed past him and grabbed my coat. He pulled off the apron and followed me into the kitchen.
What's the big idea?" he growled.
I pulled on my coat and glanced between him and the door. "I-um, I just remembered I need to attend a wake."
His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "For who?"
"For a dead person. I'll be back later," I promised.
I flew out the door and raced into my car. "If there is a later. . ." I mumbled as I backed out.
CHAPTER 8
A few broken speed limits later and I arrived at the site of the Squash Festival, the county fairgrounds. The fairgrounds was a large patch of ground beside the main county highway. The land was surrounded by cornfields on its three other sides and had a large, dusty parking lot along the road. There were a half dozen stall buildings for animals and a large closed hall for the larger, non-animal exhibits. The good weather meant the squash competition was on tables between the hall and the smaller buildings. The hundreds of squash were grouped into categories of variety, size, jack-o-lanterns and more. Crowds mingled in front of the tables and picked favorites to win the Squash Festival grand champion.
The dry grass cracked under my feet as I hurried through the crowds to the jack-o-lantern section. I found her jack-o-lantern among the dozens of other lit pumpkins, but no relatives. They turned out to be staking out the competition in the nearby giant-gourd section. They were lookin
g at a particularly long and thin squash. The owner was Elmira, a skinny old woman in a flowered dress. She stood beside her prized skinny squash with a broad grin on her face.
"You've got a nice squash there, Elmira," Uncle Seward told her.
"It's expected to win grand champion," she replied.
"I don't know about that, Elmira," Aunt Ma spoke up. "There's a lot of nice jack-o-lanterns this year."
Elmira sneered. "Jack-o-lanterns aren't worth nothing but the candle that's in them."
I averted World War Squash when I stumbled into their little group. I grinned at my surprised aunt and uncle. "Could I talk to you two for a sec?"
"You said you couldn't come," Aunt Ma reminded me
I looped my arm through one each of theirs and pulled them towards the jack-o-lanterns. "Sorry to pull the wool over your eyes, but on that note there's something I've got to tell you."
"Were you fired?" Uncle Seward guessed.
"I didn't give Ralph enough time to yell that to me, but probably," I replied.
Aunt Ma glanced around us. "Where's Roland?"
"Never around until the last minute," I told her. We reached the pumpkins and I looked over the crowds. They thinned enough that we wouldn't be easily overheard. I ducked my head down and pulled my aunt and uncle close. "You have to get your pumpkin and get out of here," I warned them.
Uncle Seward frowned. "Why? What's going on?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I tried," I told him.
"Young lady, we're not going anywhere until you tell us what's wrong," Uncle Seward insisted.
I took a deep breath. "All right, remember how we found those tracks by Aunt Ma's smashed pumpkin?"
Aunt Ma sighed. "Yes, and that's still my favorite."
"Well, Roland and I found out what broke it, and I think it's heading this way," I explained.
"You make it sound like it's a stampede," my uncle commented.
"No, it's-well, it's a were-sheep," I revealed.
My uncle looked at me like I was a twenty pound bag of salted nuts. "A were-sheep?"
"There's no time-" A heavy hand fell on me and I spun around to find it was attached to an arm. Then a shoulder, and finally Roland's face. "Please tell me you didn't track our woolen villain here."
"I tracked him as far as the parking lot before his prints were lost in the dust," he told me.
"Which means it's time to pack up Jack and get going," I told my relatives.
Roland glanced over my head and frowned. "I believe we may be too late."
I looked at what he stared at. A crowd gathered around something at the far end of the rows of tables.