“Yeah, I don’t think any of us ever are,” I said, reaching for her hand.
Emma gave my hand a quick squeeze, then pulled back to face the road. “You know what I could use right now?” she asked. “A good fight and a whole plate full of cookies.”
I had been hoping to avoid one of Simon and Emma’s explosive arguments, but if that was what would make her feel better right now then that was what she would get. One big bad wolf coming right up.
We arrived at the cabin a few minutes later and Emma marched in looking for a fight. I almost felt bad for Simon. Almost. Calvin and Emma were the only one’s there though when I walked inside.
“Where is he?” Emma asked, arms crossed and foot tapping.
Cal raised an eyebrow, but answered, “Simon shifted and went to check the perimeter. We need to be careful with the killer still out there somewhere and neither of us have been here all afternoon. He should be back soon.”
“We baked cookies,” I announced, waving the plate of oatmeal applesauce cookies.
“All for me?” Cal asked, jokingly. “Thanks!”
“No, not all for you,” I said, laughing. “You have to share.”
Cal slipped his arms around my waist and leaned in for a kiss. “Are you sure I can’t have the whole plate?” he mumbled.
Nice try Calvin Miller. “Have…to…share,” I mumbled.
He kissed the edge of my mouth and smiled. “Okay princess, may I have one cookie?” he asked.
“Sure,” I answered as he ate the cookie in two bites. “It’s vegan.”
“What?” he asked and nearly choked. “You could have told me first.”
Emma and I started giggling. “But then you never would have tried one,” I said.
Cal pulled a funny face and pretended to choke making Emma laugh harder.
“Act like that and I’ll make you eat the whole plate yourself,” Emma threatened.
“Mwhahaha, my evil plan has succeeded!” Cal exclaimed. “Hand over the plate.”
Emma and Cal ran around the cabin with the cookie plate. It was good to see them both laughing. Just like old times.
We all had a funeral to go to the following day so Emma and I left early. Simon hadn’t returned yet, but Emma no longer seemed in need of an argument and I was too tired to deal with his annoying personality. We agreed to meet at Cal’s parents’ house in the morning. Our group would then split into two couples, me and Cal and Emma and Simon, so we could blend at the funeral. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.
Chapter 9
October 23rd
I awoke to the rumble of thunder overhead. Great, that bodes well. I rolled out of bed and padded to the window. The sky was gray, with dark smudges of storm clouds in the distance, but it wasn’t raining. Yet. I walked to the bathroom and flicked on the overhead light. My reflection stared back at me gloomily. I was wearing my retro Gremlins pajamas and Gizmo was giving me a thumbs up.
“Yeah yeah, I know, Gizzy is the shizzy,” I mumbled at my reflection. I mirrored Gizmo’s thumbs up and wandered off in search of food and caffeine.
Getting dressed should have been the easy part of my day. People wear black to funerals and I had a closet brimming full of black clothing. Easy right? Unfortunately I was also dressing for battle. Going to the funeral meant entering a cemetery where I would likely be bombarded with the smell impressions of its many ghostly residents. I was going to need every protection trick and spirit ward up my sleeve if I hoped to survive the day with my sanity intact. The hard part was that I really needed to literally fit these items up my sleeves. I could get away with a few crosses, but too much occult bling at a public funeral would draw the wrong kind of attention. We needed to be discreet, hence my wardrobe dilemma.
I set my chain mail for spirits down on the bed with a sigh. There was no way it was fitting under any of my nice blouses. I grabbed a belly chain that I had only been brave enough to wear once and attached a few charms to it, extra crosses, a silver four leaf clover, a Thai Buddha amulet, and a Seal of Solomon protection charm, and slipped it on. I grabbed a non-toxic magic marker and drew a few more crosses and symbols from the library books on my upper arms and stomach where they wouldn’t show once I was fully dressed.
I pulled a black cami on first and my high necked ruffle blouse over that. I hooked my evil eye pendant around my neck and slipped the pendant under the blouse. I slipped my large ornate cross necklace over my head and let the cross rest on my blouse. It was goth, but not too over the top. I clipped a few tiny bells into my hair, then pulled on a floor length black skirt and laced up my boots. There were a few loose herbs in the toe of each boot, more spirit protection, and they tickled my stocking feet.
Thunder rattled my window and I decided to bring my waterproof trench coat and an umbrella. I shoved a few more charms into my coat pockets and, with a silent prayer, ran for the stairs. I felt the cold sliver of fear slide down my back. Or was that just one of my charms? Either way I had a bad feeling about this.
*****
Emma was waiting for me in the driveway and looked fabulous in her black dress. Emma normally only wore white, cream, or gray so it was a shock to see her alabaster skin and pale blond hair against the contrasting black of her dress.
“You look amazing,” I said. She also looked older, but I wasn’t going to mention that. I wondered if it was intentional. She was going as Simon’s date after all.
“Thanks, you too,” she said, getting into the driver’s seat. “Are you jingling?”
“Um, yeah, that would be me,” I said guiltily. “Is it that noticeable?”
“Not really,” she answered. “You might just want to refrain from jumping up and down.”
“Right, because people do that all the time at funerals,” I said sarcastically.
“Fine, don’t take my advice,” she said primly.
What was her deal today? “You ready for some detective work?” I asked. “You and Simon can be like Holmes and Watson or Starsky and Hutch.”
Emma shot me a look that would freeze lava. Well at least I know what she’s mad about. If I hadn’t been so focused on my own dread of today, then I would have realized just how uncomfortable Emma must be pretending to be Simon’s date for the day. She was eighteen and he was old. I wasn’t exactly sure how old, but he was probably in his thirties. You know, ancient.
“So I was wondering if maybe we should have a change in plan,” I said. “You could give Simon a ride, but then split up when you get to the funeral. You don’t really have to stay together.”
Emma let out a sigh. “I would, but I have to admit that the boys have a point,” she said. “We shouldn’t go in there on our own. There’s a killer prowling around and I, for one, don’t want to be his next victim. No, we’ll stick to the plan. The buddy system is the sensible thing to do.”
“You could call Simon your ‘buddy’ all day,” I suggested. “That would probably annoy him.”
“I like that plan,” she said. “I like that plan a lot.”
*****
“Ah, there’s the little lady,” Simon said as we walked into Cal’s parents’ house. He swaggered over and put his arm around Emma. “Miss me, love? No worries, we get to spend the entire day together.”
Simon was so totally a dead man.
“It’s not wise to taunt your doctor,” Emma said icily. “You wouldn’t want me angry the next time I patch you up…or when you’re sick and I make you drink my tea.” Emma reached up and skillfully slipped out from under Simon’s arm while placing her hand on his forehead. “Why Simon, are you running a fever? You may need my tea sooner than you think.”
Simon blanched and looked uncertain. Emma had a level of power within the wolf pack, they were in need of her medical and veterinary skills, but up until now she had only made Simon drink her tea. An experience he obviously didn’t want to repeat. Ever. What Emma was doing now was establishing her rank in the hierarchy and Simon seemed unsure of how to proceed. She wasn’t one of
the Old Blood so they couldn’t fight for dominance, which only seemed to leave a battle of wits and wills, and Emma was very, very good at arguing. Simon seemed to size her up then stepped away.
“Fine, doc, whatever,” he muttered. “Can we get this show on the road? We have a killer to find and a brother to mourn.”
“Ready?” Cal asked.
It suddenly occurred to me he hadn’t said a word or stepped in when Emma and Simon were having their power struggle. He let them work things out on their own and Emma had come out on top.
“Ready,” I said.
Now that I didn’t have to worry about Emma, I had my own problems to obsess over. Emma and Simon left in her car while Cal and I pulled away in his truck.
The ride to the cemetery was the longest ten minutes of my life. When we reached the wrought iron cemetery gates I tried, and failed, to repress a shudder. The sky overhead had darkened and as I looked past the stone walls, to the row upon row of grave stones, I couldn’t help imagining the spectral images of wailing ghosts and hand wringing spirits around every stone and monument. I really needed to lay off the scary movies. My mind was conjuring up horrifying images and I wasn’t sure if this was some form of coping mechanism or a slow descent into madness. Maybe I should just stay here in the truck. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll just stay here on the nice safe street in the safety of Cal’s truck.
Cal’s fingers reaching out to hold my hand nearly made me faint in terror. Oh yeah, it’s official, I am totally freaking out.
“You don’t have to go in,” Cal said. He was looking at me with such open concern that my breath turned into a hiccupping sob. No. I was not going to cry. Not today.
“Yes, I do,” I said. “I may be able to divine something from the smell impressions. And…and it probably isn’t even safe out here by myself.”
I didn’t like admitting that last part. I preferred to think of myself as tough and self-reliant, but the reality was that a killer with supernatural strength was stalking the Old Blood and possibly those closest to them. I was also a mess. I was stressed out and sleep deprived and jumping at shadows. Entering the cemetery may not be on my list of favorite ways to spend the day, but it was what I needed to do. Hopefully I wouldn’t commit any funeral faux pas like hyperventilating, flailing at the air, or running screaming through the cemetery. Fingers crossed. Toes too.
Cal was holding my hand, but I still managed to jingle along with my jangling nerves. I just couldn’t stop fidgeting.
“I’ve got charms that jingle jangle jingle,” I sang quietly to myself.
“Are you singing?” Cal asked quietly. He was smiling which was a good thing. At least, I hoped it was a good thing. I sure as heck prayed it wasn’t the smile that came before calling the men with straightjackets. They’re coming to take me away, ha ha, they’re coming to take me away.
“Sorry, nervous habit,” I said. I felt like I was speaking too rapidly, a sharp staccato that sounded harsh to my ears, and the smell of burning brownies was increasing.
Cal must have sensed my growing unease because he gathered me into his arms and held me tight. The smell that was Cal, woods, wet dog, fresh air, and warm skin, washed over me and I began to feel safe.
“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Cal said into my hair. “I won’t leave you. You don’t have to face this alone.”
As we sat there in Cal’s truck people were streaming in through the cemetery gates and walking up the narrow path to the group of mourners gathered at the top of the hill. Time to face the music.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I said, pulling away. I reached for the door handle and felt the cold metal beneath my skin. I can do this. I am strong. I am me. No wispy flesh and blood wannabe is going to take that away. Not today.
Stepping around the truck, Cal reached for my hand and we walked together across the street to the cemetery gate. I felt a breath of cold air and a slight popping in my ears as we crossed the threshold. That was when all Hell broke loose.
It is very, very difficult to be the only person experiencing raw terror and knowing that you have to appear like everything is just fine. The situation was so far away from fine we had traveled to another galaxy.
Normally I can only sense the dead through smell. It’s an annoying gift and it sucks, but I always guessed there would be something much worse if I ever dared venture past the cemetery gates. I was right. There was a roaring in my ears and a piercing headache forming behind my temples. My face felt like it was being touched by cold tendrils brushing past as I walked, one step at a time, up the gravel path. It was confusing and disorienting and I held on to Cal, knowing that he wouldn’t let me fall.
Oh and the smells! I was bombarded with smells from every direction. The smells came in every form; acrid, pungent, sweet, floral, each and every one of them stirring up memories and feelings. It felt like a violation, but it wasn’t like I could stop breathing. Oh yeah, and I had to act normal.
Somehow we managed to run the gauntlet and made it to the gathering at the top of the hill. I was breathing rapidly and hoped that anyone who noticed assumed it was from exertion. As we came to a halt amongst the mourners I caught a flash of Simon’s grin and Emma’s blond hair, but then the crowd shifted. I realized belatedly they were making room for Calvin. He was the pack alpha after all. We were moved to the front, closest to the newly turned earth, Cal holding my hand in a vice-like grip.
My ears were ringing too loudly to make out what was being said and the funeral itself passed in random flashes. A woman’s shoes. Blink. Gazing around the circle of downcast faces. Blink. A tuft of grass longer than the rest. Blink. A handkerchief edged with embroidered roses. Blink. The only constant was the barrage of odors and the ever present smell of burning brownies.
At one point I thought I saw Emma reach out for Simon’s hand, but I had to be imagining things, right? After hours, or minutes, the crowd began to disperse. Cal exchanged a few words with whom I assumed must be the grieving widow, but as promised he never left my side. My headache was pounding, the roaring in my ears deafening, and I was beginning to lose feeling in my legs when Cal steered me towards the gates. I stumbled down the path, with Cal holding me upright, and nearly wept with relief when we cleared the cemetery gate. I wanted to bend down and kiss the ground, but wasn’t sure if I could get back up again. Plus there was the whole trying to look normal thing. Instead Cal helped me into the truck where he wrapped me in a blanket, turned up the heat, and held me until I stopped shaking. If this was what it was like to be exposed to one small cemetery of ghosts, then I was totally unprepared for Samhain which was only a week away. I might as well start picking out the straightjacket now. Do you think they come in black?
*****
Attending the funeral after-party was much easier than the graveside ceremony. Fewer spirits, more werewolves. My kind of party. They all looked human in their black finery, but there was something less controlled in their actions here. I assumed it was similar to what I had experienced at Wolf Camp. Here, among their own kind, there was nothing to hide.
When Cal and I entered the room all eyes turned to us, or rather to Calvin. At his nod though everyone seemed to relax and go back to mingling and eating and drinking. What was it about death that made people want to eat? Was it an attempt to fill the empty hole in their lives or something to do with endorphins? I’d have to ask Emma. She would know. Emma knows everything food related. Looking at the table, filled with casseroles and desserts, I suddenly had an epiphany. I knew how I was going to work the subject of burning brownies into conversation. I guess the cemetery hadn’t totally fried my brain. Good to know.
I grabbed a slip of paper from my coat pocket and mimed writing. After searching through his pockets Cal handed me a pen and I wrote an abbreviated version of my plan. Why was I writing notes to my boyfriend when he was standing right there? Well, werewolves have more sensitive hearing than humans and I didn’t want to risk having my plan overheard. After just a few seconds I had commu
nicated my plan to Cal and he moved away toward the refreshment table.
With more than a bit of trepidation I approached the grieving widow. Okay, honestly I was pretty uncomfortable with this, and the growing smell of burning brownies wasn’t helping any, but I had just faced one of my worst fears and survived. How bad could subterfuge be? Oh right, have I mentioned how much I suck at lying? I could feel my face burning red with embarrassment as I stepped up to Mrs. Sanders.
“Hi Mrs. Sanders, I’m Yuki,” I stuttered. I’m the head case who was hyperventilating at your husband’s funeral. “I came with Cal.”
“Thank you for coming,” she said. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying which made what I was about to do ten times harder.
“I feel really bad,” I said. “I mean…I feel bad I didn’t bring anything to eat. I made brownies, but I ended up burning the entire batch. I guess I should have left the baking to Cal.” I held my breath waiting for her reaction. I didn’t have to wait long.
Her smile wavered and her eyes flooded with tears. “Oh, burnt brownies would have been appropriate,” she said, shakily. “They were Gavin’s signature dessert. He made them every weekend. We joked he burned them on purpose just so he could smother them in vanilla ice cream. They were inedible otherwise and we always kept ice cream in the freezer for when he would bake his brownies. I guess I don’t need to buy as much ice cream anymore…” Her voice trailed off and I took that as my cue to leave. I had the information that I needed.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I mumbled, backing away.
As I crossed the room to where Cal was standing, someone lifted their glass and began a toast in Gavin’s memory. It was unbelievably sad. He obviously had been a really nice guy, a nice guy who would never again be coming home and baking brownies with his family. My thoughts turned to Sam, the missing boy our own age, and I sent up a silent prayer that he was still alive.