Chapter 45
“Hi!” Carter greets me as soon as they enter, and I can’t help a smile. He is very nice, even for a regular customer. “Do you have a seat for us?”
“Sure, the second table is free.” I gesture at the booth, and while Carter and Gray settle around the table I bring them menus. “How was the night?”
“Great! We slept in the woods, and…” Carter’s voice trails off as he catches his brother’s eyes, and I only have enough time to glance between them before he continues with a less joyful, “I mean, we were in the woods.”
“It was alright,” Gray adds and looks up at me with a calm, unreadable gaze. “We slept in tents.”
Oh? I hum in surprise. I didn’t expect it—but well, it’s already summer. The woods around Raywald have always been good for camping unless you go too far up the mountain. As kids, we used to scare each other by saying that evil witches and giant wolves live there, but in reality, those forests are simply uninhabited and have no paths to bring you back to Raywald. If you get lost there once, you may never come out of them again.
“Do you like camping?” I ask out of habit—truckers and travelers often like to ask about Raywald and talk about their own adventures.
But Gray only shrugs, studying the menu. “Kind of.”
“It’s really cool.” Carter, in turn, looks up with an excited grin, as joyful and endearing as ever. “You should try it sometime.”
I laugh, unable to hold back my amusement. “I used to go camping every summer, so trust me, I’m good. I saw you went to Old Aiden’s motel though. Did you not enjoy it enough?”
“Well, we want to sleep in beds too.”
I share a chuckle with Carter—Gray remains more interested in the contents of the menu—and leave them with a promise to come back later. But there is a topic both of them stubbornly avoid despite my hints. Are they going to stay in Raywald? Do they plan to stay for long? Usually, visitors ask about a motel to stay at, places to see, and things to do here. But these three, including Owen, are suspiciously quiet about their reasons for coming here.
It can’t be just for Abel and camping, right?
I only grow more skeptical about their plans for Raywald when I notice Gray and Carter more and more often over the next few days. They drop by Till Dawn a few times when they walk back to the motel after whatever they had to do in the town, and I see them almost every day when I drive through the streets. It looks like they stick together wherever they go, whether looking for work or exploring Raywald, and I start to notice that locals are starting to accept them too.
Owen, in turn, simply disappears at some point. I see him a couple of times after their first morning in Raywald— but after that he’s just gone. Left? Maybe, but something tells me he wouldn’t leave Gray and Carter like that. Besides, I keep overhearing his name in their conversations, and it just doesn’t feel right to think they decided to separate a day after their arrival. Especially when they share one car, and it stays untouched in the parking lot of Old Aiden’s motel.
My curiosity reaches its peak when Abel mentions Owen in passing while talking about a part-time position he’s found for Gray, and I can’t help myself. Trying to sound as casual as possible, I clear my throat and murmur, “Isn’t the oldest gonna help them settle?”
“Who, Owen?” Abel exchanges quick glances with Rorie—as if they are so subtle I can’t see it—and after I nod, he shrugs with a hum. “Well, he doesn’t have time now really. He went to visit our relatives in the mountains, and we don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Hopefully not anytime soon. Not that I care about his presence at all.
I shake my head—why do I even think about him? It’s my day off, and I want to spend it with a glass of Grandma’s homemade lemonade and a good book. For today, I’ve already chosen the one I used to read over and over when I was a child. It’s a compilation of myths and fairytales from around the world, and no matter how old I am they are always fascinating to read. Although now, the family killings and stories of the end of the world aren’t as funny as they used to be.
My mind focuses back on the book, and I dive into the tale of Fenrir and Tyr, sipping on the lemonade in the quiet of our living room. Grandma is in the garden again, and through the open window I can hear how she talks to our neighbors or murmurs old songs to herself through the thrills of birds and rustle of the woods around us. This, in essence, is my life in Raywald and everything I love about it.
When the sun is almost set and the evening is already darkening into the night, Teddy jumps on the couch with me and nudges me with his paws. Okay yes, it’s time for a walk. I ignore him until the end of the chapter, just so that he knows I’m not surrendering so easily, and get up. The weather is nice, so I’m glad to stretch my legs before dinner.
It’s already dark by the time we reach our usual path in the woods, but the night is clear and the lights of Raywald are blinking through the trees. Besides, both Teddy and I know every path leading from our house by heart, so we go straight into the darkness of the woods, only his fluorescent collar glimmering from side to side. Basically, it’s Teddy Bear who leads me—takes me on a walk, in a way—and I just follow him over his favorite trails and think about what to make for dinner.
The urge to order pizza is so strong, but Grandma always makes a fuss about—
Huh? I look up the path and hurry forward, where Teddy is barking and growling into the darkness. He is too old for it these days, and I haven’t heard him growl in years. It’s probably a bird with a messed up sleep pattern, a fox, or another animal he hasn’t seen in a while.
“Hey, buddy, what is it?” I say in a calming tone as soon as I reach him, but Teddy doesn’t even look at me. He’s staring intently into the darkness between the trees with a low growl—suddenly, he starts to whine and backs away. “Teddy, it’s just a bird, don’t…”
But my own voice trails off when I hear a crack of branches under someone’s steps and another growl. It’s not as high-pitched and alarmed as Teddy’s—it’s slow and deep, and grumbling as if trying to threaten. Let me tell you, it works perfectly because I do feel threatened in an instant and jump up to my feet, whipping around to see the source of it.
It’s a wolf. A goddamn beast of an animal, with its head as high as my waist and its shoulders wider than mine. Its silver fur is glistening under the moon, and it feels impossible that I haven’t noticed it before—but even as it crawls within a few feet from us, I can barely hear a single crackle under its huge paws.
For a terrifying moment, my whole body goes numb, and I hear a squeak even before I realize that it comes out of my mouth. The wolf’s bright blue eyes immediately snap at me, and before I have time to think, I instinctively throw my hands up and step back. I don’t know what I expected to happen—maybe that the wolf would be scared of me waving my hands at him—but I definitely do not expect what does happen a moment later.
As soon as my hands are in the air, a weird sensation runs through my arms, electricity tingling on the tips of my fingers. I see sparkles of it in the air, before they explode in a flash of light and a shock wave throws the wolf against a tree. I am pushed back too, but at least I manage to remain standing and struggling to catch my breath.
What the hell was that?
My heart is pounding, my body is shaking, and I understand nothing. Damn. I stare at my hands for a horrifying second, expecting them to look burned or alight with whatever it was. But they look like they usually do, only pink with warmth and trembling, and I lick my dry lips and swallow. Okay, that’s good. Now…
I hear a groan. Not an animal whine or a growl, but a human groan followed by a hoarse and pained curse. That… doesn’t sound like a wolf?
Because it’s not. It’s not a damn wolf. As soon as I look up again, the world around me spins and I have to gasp for breath—in the place of the fallen wolf, there is a man now. A young, naked, possibly dazed man with dark hair, wide shoulders, and a deep voice that rings a bell in my already stunned mind.
“Owen?” I whisper, and he turns to me. He turns to me, catches my gaze—and the sight of his bright blue eyes turns out to be the last straw.
He tries to tell me something but the rush of blood is too loud in my ears, my pounding heart shaking all of my senses, and I step back when he moves to sit up. My instinct of self-preservation finally kicks in, and as soon as my body catches up with my brain I whip around and run the hell out of there.
I don’t remember how I reach my house, I don’t know how much time it takes me. All I know is that at some point I remember about Teddy and pause, shaking in dread as I
turn around. The glimmer of his collar catches up with me a few seconds later, and I gather him into my arms and keep running until the lights of our windows are close enough to fill me with relief.
I allow myself to stop only at the gates of my house, panting and shivering from exhaustion. But while Teddy Bear rushes to his bowl of water as soon as I put him down, I swallow through my dry, aching throat and turn around.
The dark trees look menacing, the shadow of the mountain is looming over my head, and I feel like this forest will never look the same to me.