The Wolf's Daughter (The Tala Chronicles) Page 2

  Matt spread the blanket out, and they sat against the monuments. The air seemed warmer. An owl hooted, and another one answered.

  Matt reached for Tala’s hand and squeezed it. “So soft... And the stars are shining just for you tonight.” He turned her face toward him. “I think they’re jealous of your eyes.”

  She pulled her lips to one side. “Matt, that’s so corny…but kind of sweet, too.” Tala scanned in the direction of her house, which a thick curtain of trees hid. But bats, not butterflies flew around in her stomach. “I think we should leave.”

  He sighed. “You worry too much.” Matt moved closer. “Your face is beautiful with the full moon shining on it, but what’s with your eyes now? I’ve never seen them like this before.”

  “What are you talking about? Is something wrong with them?”

  “No, they’re just different. But even more beautiful,” he added quickly.

  Tala tilted her head. “Different in what way?”

  Matt shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a lighter color.”

  “Let’s go, Matt. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “I don’t want to go.” His voice sounded different, raspy.

  Tala got up, but he pulled her down. Matt twisted her hair around his hand and kissed her hard on the lips. The bourbon smell turned her stomach.

  “Stop! You’re hurting me.”

  He pulled her head back with her hair, and kissed her again.

  Tala struggled and escaped. She went running down the path lined on both sides with statues of angels and saints, the graves silent witnesses to her distress. Matt’s footsteps pounded on the ground. How could he move that fast?

  Matt jumped out from behind a mausoleum. “Why are you running away from me?” He grabbed her again, this time holding her upper arms tightly enough to make her cry out. Evil filled his face, his mouth contorting into a sneer, his eyes burning into hers. “See what you do to me, Tala?”

  She kicked him as hard as she could.

  He gave her a look of disbelief. And then the evil cast returned to his face.

  She backed up and then turned and took off again.

  He almost caught up to her when two German shepherds attacked him. He screamed. “They’re going to kill me!”

  The dogs growled and barked.

  She looked back. One took a chunk out of his leg. Her heart was torn apart, but she was so terrified of Matt and the dogs she kept running, out of the graveyard and up to her house. She banged on the door. “Help!”

  Her father opened the door, his eyes wild with alarm. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

  Where was her mother? She must have gone to sleep already. “No. Please, you have to help Matt. He’s in the graveyard, and some dogs are attacking him,” she said between deep breaths.

  Her father dialed 911. “Matt Griffin’s being attacked by German shepherds in the cemetery.” He turned to her. “Where?”

  “I-I... N-near the entrance, I think.”

  He repeated what she said. “Okay, thanks.” He hung up and hugged Tala, who was crying softly.

  “Oh, Dad. It was terrible.” She sniffled.

  He gave her his handkerchief and smoothed her hair. She wiped her nose, and he hugged her again.

  “I’m afraid they’ll kill him.”

  He patted her back. “They’ll be here soon. Try to calm down.”

  The sirens blared, and lights flashed. A fire emergency vehicle streaked past the house, followed by a police car. And then an ambulance.

  Fifteen minutes later, Tala said, “Maybe you should go, too, Dad.”

  “That’s not a good idea. We’ll be hearing soon enough from the—”

  He turned in a knock’s direction. Her father opened the door. “Hi, Charlie, what’s going on?”

  “Harry. Tala.” The officer nodded to each. “I was just about to ask you the same question. Isn’t it prom night?”

  “Yes,” Tala said. Didn’t everyone know that? “Is Matt okay?”

  “They’re taking him to the hospital. Weren’t you with him?”

  Tala concentrated on not rolling her eyes. “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, we went to the cemetery—”

  “Why would you do a thing like that?”

  Tala shrugged. “We just did, that’s all.” If only she’d come up with a better story before this. “We were walking out, and that’s when the dogs attacked Matt.”

  “They didn’t attack you?”

  “No.”

  The look on his face showed disbelief.

  “It just doesn’t make sense. Why would they attack Matt and not you?”

  Her shoulders slumped. Think, Tala, think. “Maybe they don’t like males.”

  The officer raised his eyebrows.

  “I just don’t know.” She wrung her hands. “But I know how crazy the whole thing sounds. I’m even having trouble believing it happened.” She started crying again.

  “Look, Charlie,” her father said. “Tala’s really upset right now. Maybe she’ll remember more tomorrow…after a good night’s sleep.”

  The officer sighed. “Okay, Tala. Get some shuteye. We’ll get in touch with you tomorrow.”

  Her father walked him to the door, and the officer left. He turned to her. “There’s more to this story, isn’t there?”

  Tala nodded. “Mom’s asleep already, isn’t she?”

  “Yes.” He paused. “Let’s not involve her in this. She’s volatile enough. But you need to tell me, although I think I know already.”

  “What do you think you know?” she asked in a small voice.

  “That Matt became violent, maybe just after he said something about your eyes.”

  She looked at her father, eyes wide. “H-how did you know?”

  “That’s all I want to say about it. It’s too dangerous for you to be together.

  “But, Dad.” She covered her face with her hands. “Maybe—”

  “No, Tala. There’s no maybe, only never. It’s for your protection. And his.”

  “Can’t he change?”

  Her father just shook his head.

  Tala wanted to ask him more questions. Despite what had happened in the cemetery, she wanted to scream there had to be some way she and Matt could be together. Some way Matt could change. But her father’s eyes frightened her. They spoke of resignation, remorse, and exhaustion.

  “Okay, Dad.” Once he’d made up his mind, he wouldn’t budge. She hugged him. “I’m tired.” If only she could erase the sadness from her father’s eyes.

  He tousled her hair. “Go to sleep, Tala. Things will be better tomorrow.”

  No, they wouldn’t. Nothing could ever be better without Matt. But she nodded and started up the stairs. When she reached the fifth step, her father spoke.

  “And Tala…”

  “Yes, Dad?”

  “I’m proud of you. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

  A tear ran down her cheek, and she blew a kiss. “Thanks, Dad.”

  After Tala went upstairs, her father sank into the couch. He and Carol knew the risks they took when they’d married. It wasn’t what he’d wanted, but his father… And now his nightmares were becoming a reality. He’d have to keep her away from Matt, and everyone like him. And how was that even a possibility? Hard enough now. What about when he died? He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d protect her the best he could until that time.

  ***

  “He’ll kill me.”

  Vanessa grabbed Tala’s shoulders and shook her slightly. “Would you stop being such a drama queen.” She pressed the sixth-floor elevator button.

  “I’m serious. My father will have a fit if he finds out. Tala took a deep breath. “What room is he in? Please don’t say 666.”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes. “It’s 618.”

  The doors opened, and they boarded, Tala scrunching herself into a corner. Someone had drawn a skull and crossbones on one of the walls. Creepy. An omen? �
�I’m serious. If he finds out... After what happened last night, my father really meant it when he told me to never see Matt again.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why do hospitals smell so awful, ammonia, bleach...” She sniffed. “Blood?”

  “Don’t think about it. Just try to figure out how you’re going to tell the love of your life you’re not seeing him anymore.”

  When the ding of the elevator sounded, the doors parted.

  Tala loped out of the elevator. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. I should have just called—”

  “Never again!” her father cried, storming out of Room 618.

  ***

  “Are you still with us?” Vanessa glanced over at her. “You’ve been so quiet.”

  Tala sat up straight and nodded. “I’m sorry, I guess I just fell asleep.”

  The white Mercedes, like an elegant ghost, glided past the graveyard. A cold chill wrapped icy fingers around Tala’s heart. They passed statues and gravestones she remembered, an angel with one wing, Saint Francis with a wolf at his feet, a gravestone so old the name and dates on it were like whispers from the wind. But the marble swans hid.

  “Funny, I never was afraid of this place until the incident with Matt. I’ll be glad when my mother’s funeral is over.”

  Vanessa shrugged. “Well, I don’t blame you. Nothing happened to me here, but I’m still creeped out by it.”

  As they neared the house, Tala’s heart beat faster. Then it came into view. A sense of foreboding enveloped her. She fought to stay in the moment. “You’re right about one thing. It sure needs a coat of paint.”

  The house wore a mourning dress of dirty gray clapboard. The dingy windows said, “Go away!” With wood missing from the front steps, the stairs warned her with a jack o’ lantern grimace.

  Tala shook her head. “This wasn’t a good idea, Vanessa.”

  “Hey, it is a good idea. I’ll stay with you if you want me to. Isn’t it best to put all this in your past and move on with your life?”

  “Yes, and that’s why I have to do it on my own.” She hugged herself.

  “Okay, I’ll help you with your stuff.” Vanessa reached in the back and picked up the cat carrier. Even Maeve looked frightened, her gold-saucer eyes staring out the window.

  Tala hobbled up the stairs. She touched the rough doorjamb and outlined the crosses she’d carved. As in her dream, the porch chairs rocked with an eerie rhythm. She took a deep breath. Tala inserted the skeleton key in the door, and the loud click made her flinch. She pushed the door open and walked in, Vanessa behind her.

  Vanessa placed the carrier and suitcase in the foyer. “Want me to let Maeve out?”

  “Sure. She has to get used to the place sometime.”

  Maeve stuck her head out of the security she had and looked around. Then one front paw was on the Oriental rug, followed by the other.

  A piercing chill surrounded them and the chandelier swayed. Maeve retreated to the carrier.

  “What was that?” Tala asked.

  “Oh, it’s just a draught. This house is anything but airtight. I can practically see the wind swirling around in here.” She held up an index finger and twirled it.

  “You’re right. Thanks again, Vanessa, for picking me up.”

  “Don’t mention it. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

  “No, we’ll be fine.” Tala looked down at the cat carrier. “But I almost wish I had a carrier to crawl into.”

  “Call me if you need anything.” Vanessa waved and then left.

  Tala scanned the foyer. Still the same suffocating forest-green walls. Even more threadbare than ten years ago, the puzzle of an Oriental rug sprawled on the lackluster dark plank floor. She’d wait till later to open the kitchen door, let the other memories sink in first before she’d return to the room she always wanted to forget the most.

  To her right, the ominous mahogany furniture haunted the dining room. The staircase met her head-on, with the chair elevator. Good for her broken foot, but it was the spookiest-looking thing. Didn’t haunted houses usually have one? Would she have the guts to use it?

  Her pondering ended when something crashed in the living room. She hurried in as fast as her Frankenstein boot allowed. On the mantel Maeve posed, tail held high. On the floor beneath her, vase pieces formed an abstract mosaic.

  “Bad kitty. Get off there.” Tala extricated Maeve from the bric-a-brac.

  A dust dungeon. Tala sneezed three times. The room frozen in time. Heavy overstuffed furniture sat without welcoming her. A monstrous cracked mirror with a tortuously carved frame challenged her. She remembered the night it shattered.

  Her mother had walked down the stairs with a dangerous wobble. “Tala. Tala, where are you?”

  Tala had run and hidden behind the sofa, one side of her face touching it. She’d tried to suppress a sneeze.

  “I hear you, you good for nothing. Come out from behind the couch.”

  Tala crept out. Her mother stood there with a candlestick.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Shut up. I’m the one who asks the questions. Come here.”

  Tala shook and her heart hammered.

  “I won’t hurt you. I promise.” Her mother giggled.

  Tala got up and walked over. Her mother looked into her eyes and raised the candlestick. Tala ran out of the room and listened from the kitchen. She jumped at the crash of glass breaking.

  “It’s your fault. You made me do it when you looked at me,” her mother screamed.

  Her father came in the front door. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s her fault. I told you we should have done something about her a long time ago.”

  “Where is she?”

  “How do I know?”

  “It’s not Tala’s fault. She can’t help it. She’s not in control...and neither are you.”

  “That’s just like you, isn’t it? Making excuses for her.”

  “You knew the chances of this happening if you—”

  “Go to hell, you sorry excuse for a man.”

  “Go upstairs, Carol, before you do any more damage.”

  When she’d peeked out of the kitchen, her father and mother had reached the second floor. Tala had crept back into the living room. Safe until next time.

  Now Tala looked down at the vase pieces. “Bad kitty,” she said again. She needed the dust broom and pan. As good a time as any to visit the kitchen. Tala took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Hobbling out of the living room and down the hall, she then stopped short at the entry. She slowly pushed the door open. The shadow on the floor...blood? No, it couldn’t be. Tala rubbed her eyes and blamed her imagination in overdrive.

  Had something rotted in there? No obvious filth, just a suggestion of it. Leprous olive walls shedding curls of paint. A table seating only ghosts. The floor, a few beige tiles missing, incomplete, damaged like everything else in the place. Like the puzzle of her life.

  The loud ringing of the house phone jangled her nerves.

  Tala limped over to the phone. “Hello.”

  “You never should have come back here. Go away before someone else dies,” said the deep muffled voice she didn’t recognize.

  “Who is this?”

  The phone clicked.

  She considered calling Vanessa, but she’d insist upon staying with her. Tala sat down on the antique oak bench in the hallway. It had always been her favorite piece of furniture. She remembered how gleeful she’d been when her father had shown her the secret compartment. Working double duty as a hat rack and storage area, its stained glass with jewel colors of red, green, and blue always calmed her. She’d insisted her father take a picture of Matt and her in front of it on prom night. Tala didn’t want to think about Matt, but she couldn’t stop. Especially the memory about the last time she’d talked to him. Vanessa had waited in the hall.

  “Tala, what are you doing here?” Matt had struggled up in the bed when she’d walked into his hospital
room. He lay under a snowdrift, rubber tendrils snaking across the pristine blanket and connecting him to bags of clear liquid. “My father almost caught me. I was lucky someone pushed a linen cart on steroids into the hall, and I walked alongside it until he passed.” She moved to his bedside.

  “I’m so sorry.” He rubbed his forehead. “Everything’s my fault. I don’t understand—”

  “Don’t.” She paused. “Are you feeling better?”

  He nodded but then furrowed his brow. “I guess so.”

  She’d bent down and kissed his cheek. “I don’t understand, either, but my father’s really serious about my not seeing you again. I-I just wanted to tell you in person.”

  “I know. That’s what he said to me a little while ago.” Matt had reached for her hand. “You’ll always be the one for me.”

  Someone knocking on the dining room window interrupted her memories.

  Maeve sat primping on the sill, and a blonde woman in a pink jogging suit tried to get Maeve’s attention. The cat, though, seemed characteristically unimpressed. Tala hobbled to the door and opened it. “Hi. I’m Tala. Can I help you?”

  “Tala, hi. I’m Debbie, your next-door neighbor. I’m so sorry about your loss. Your mother and I never spoke, but I know this must be a difficult time for you.”

  “Yes, well, I’m keeping busy. There’s so much to take care of. Sometimes that’s for the best.”

  Debbie nodded. “I remember when my husband died. I thought the same thing. Anyway, if there’s anything I can do, let me know.” She looked at Maeve, who still ignored her. “Now that is a beautiful cat. And she’s black. Is she a Bombay?”

  “Not that I know of. She’s a rescue cat.”

  Well, are you a witch, too?”

  “You’re a witch? Are you kidding?”

  “No. Why?”

  “It’s just that I’ve never heard of a witch named Debbie who wore a pink jogging suit.”

  “Well, you know, you shouldn’t stereotype.” She grinned.

  “Are there others like you?”

  “Not here.”

  “Don’t you people usually hang out together?”

  “Yes, but the nearest coven is two hours away—too long for me to drive alone. Maybe you’d like to join me sometime.”