Authors: Aimee Love
“I don’t care if you give me a vote or not,” Joe said, his voice angrier than Aubrey had ever heard it, even when he’d been yelling at Matt. “You ain’t doin’ this. If I have to lock her in a closet where you can’t get to her, I will. Nobody is touchin’ Aubrey.”
Aubrey pressed herself more firmly against the wall and held her breath. Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt lightheaded. She remembered Vina, only last night, discussing the murder and the need to be more careful. She also remembered Vina telling her that Joe had been looking out for her more than she realized. Was she too close to figuring out who the killer was? Why would they care, unless of course it was one of them. She remembered Vina telling her she had erased the tapes to protect someone they liked. She had assured Aubrey that it had nothing to do with the murder, but was it really out of character for Vina to lie?
Aubrey slumped against the wall, feeling completely adrift. She loved her mother, but she had never really liked her. All her life, Vina had been the closest thing to real family that she had.
“I agree with Joe,” a man said. “I won’t be a party to any use of force. Things aren’t that desperate yet.” She tried to place the voice and realized it was John. Did everyone get a vote in deciding her fate but Aubrey herself, she wondered. Was the bagger from the Food Lion in there? Well, at least it sounded like he was on her side.
Something nudged her leg and she started. She looked down and saw that Drake had come up beside her. He made a low, growling sound in the back of his throat. Aubrey wondered if he could sense her anxiety, and that was why he was upset.
“Did you hear that?” Lettie asked.
Aubrey ducked behind the nearest shrub and did her best to convince Drake to squeeze in beside her.
“It’s probably just Rose,” Charlie said. “She said she’d keep an eye out.”
And that, Aubrey decided, meant it was time to go. She could plant listening devices all over Vina’s house or she could ask Joe some hard questions at dinner. She could call Matt and bring him into her confidence. She could go running back to DC. She had plenty of options. The one thing she couldn’t do was stay here and get caught spying.
She backed away carefully, glancing over her shoulder for any sign of Rose. She made it around the tent and then back to the road without incident. Beside her, Drake continued to growl.
“It’s okay, boy,” she told him. “Whatever happens, you and I will stick together, okay?” She reached down and rubbed his wet fur behind the ears, her hand came back covered in fine, white hairs. She rubbed it off on her jeans and limped along, heading toward Lettie’s house. If anyone happened upon her now, she was just doing what she did every day, trying to make it around the lake. If nothing else good happened today, she knew she would at least accomplish that goal, because there was no way in hell she was accepting a ride home from anyone.
Drake growled louder. Aubrey stopped and scanned the trees. It was gloomy and overcast, but still a long way from dark. Perhaps the wolf she’d seen had followed them, and was out in the trees. She continued forward, and Drake seemed to relax. She pulled the tennis ball out of her pocket and threw it ahead of her. It hit the edge of a pot hole and bounced toward the lake side of the road. Drake tore off after it, but skidded to a halt as something crashed through the underbrush at the side of the road and caught the ball in its mouth.
Aubrey’s first thought was that it was the wolf, but Drake was only a few feet away from it and it dwarfed him. A bear? Did black bears come in colors other than black, she wondered, aware that it was stupid to be thinking about it at a time like this.
“Drake,” she called, her voice as close to panic and she planned on letting it get. She dropped her cane, reached into her jacket and pulled out the Beretta in one smooth, fluid motion. She flipped off the safety and leveled it at the creature. It turned to look at her and she wished, oh how she wished, that she didn’t instantly know what it was. It was still daylight, and the full moon was at least a week away, but Hollywood had shown her enough of them that the werewolf was instantly recognizable for what it was. It would be taller than a man, she guessed, if it stood up on its hind legs, and a good deal broader. It was covered in reddish brown fur and had a very wolfish face, though its muzzle was a good deal shorter than she thought it should be. It had large, fur tufted dog ears and the back paws were those of a wolf, but its arms ended in furry, clawed, but all too human looking hands. How could she have thought the man on the dock was wearing a costume?
“Drake,” she called again but the dog ignored her. He wanted his tennis ball back. He jumped around the beast friskily, eager for a tussle.
“Drake! Heel!”
Aubrey loved her dog, but she loved herself a good deal more. She fired three quick shots at the werewolf. She hit it with two of them, which was a miracle considering how much her hands were shaking, and she managed to miss Drake, another boon. The werewolf was knocked off its feet and tumbled with the force of the shots. Drake whimpered. Aubrey took a step forward and fired again, this time aiming more carefully. She hit it full in the chest.
The werewolf came out of its roll in a crouch, shook itself, and looked at Aubrey. It didn’t look hurt so much as pissed off. It opened its mouth and let out a blood curdling howl, its snout pointed at the sky. Aubrey shot it in the throat. She had shot it on the dock too, she realized, and that certainly hadn’t slowed it down. She had no reason to think that emptying an entire clip into it would do any better. The bullets would do her more good at close range, she reasoned, and so she turned and ran.
The best she could manage was a staggering hop, and Drake seemed determined to trip her. He danced around her, suddenly - finally - alarmed. He growled and barked, and seemed to be trying to herd her away from her route. Aubrey ignored him and concentrated on keeping her footing. Without her cane and with the loose gravel of the road, the effort was doomed to failure. She fell sprawling onto the ground, the gravel cutting into her hands as she reached out to control her fall. She rolled with it and came up facing backward, gun ready. The road behind her, toward Lettie’s house, was empty.
She picked herself up and scanned the underbrush and tried to see back into the trees. She heard another howl, close and behind her, and swung around. If the thing had gotten between her and Vina’s house, she was doomed. Even if she could make it all the way to Lettie’s, there was nobody home. She no longer cared what they had been talking about or if they knew she had heard them. Right now, Vina’s house was her only chance. She didn’t bother aiming. She fired into the trees on both sides of the road. Ten shots before she heard the click of the empty gun. She released the clip with one hand, grabbing one of her spares and slamming it home with the other.
She walked forward slowly, hands forward holding the gun, running it along the roadside, alert for any movement or noise. When she got to the end of the driveway, she turned and ran again, trusting Drake to warn her if anything was coming.
“Aubrey!” She saw Joe burst out the front door and hurry down the steps to her.
“Get back inside,” she screamed.
She saw Charlie and John come out behind Joe and stand at the top of the steps. Charlie had Vina’s shotgun up, leveled directly at her.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Aubrey froze, but
it took her only a moment to realize that the gun wasn’t aimed at her, but at the driveway behind her. Another howl split the air. She turned and glanced back, but there was nothing behind her but Drake, who had planted himself halfway down the driveway, legs splayed, teeth bared, growling fiercely at the woods to guard her retreat.
Aubrey whistled as Joe reached her and slid his arm around her to help support her weight. He half-carried her up the steps and into the house. Drake shot through the door a second later, and Charlie slammed and locked it.
Aubrey was panting and her heart was hammering in her chest. The edges of her vision went dark and she felt certain that she was going to faint.
“Get her in a chair,” John ordered.
Joe sat her down on the living room sofa and John unceremoniously shoved her head between her legs.
“Take deep breaths,” he told her, holding her head in place firmly.
Joe knelt in front of her.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he told her softly. “I promise it ain’t nearly as bad as you think.”
“Rose,” she gasped. They had said Rose was outside. She couldn’t bear the idea of sweet, cookie-baking, peach-smelling Rose out there confronting that thing.
“It’s okay,” John told her. “You didn’t hit anything vital. Mom’ll be fine.”
Aubrey’s head shot up in spite of John’s hand holding it down. Her eyes went wide and she felt the blood drain from her face.
“Rose…?”
“I’m fine dear,” Rose assured her from the doorway. She was wearing one of Vina’s bathrobes with the words “Holiday Inn” still stitched on the breast, and holding a tennis ball. She tossed the ball to Drake and then reached down to pet him.
Aubrey looked from the tennis ball to Rose. It was definitely Drake’s. The same one she had last seen in the jaws of the werewolf.
“I’m sorry I frightened you, hon,” Rose told her softly.
“I think maybe she needs a drink,” Joe told her pointedly. Rose vanished back toward the kitchen, but it was Vina who came in a moment later with a mint julep in her hand.
“Told you she’d freak out,” Vina said, handing the drink to Aubrey but directing her words to Joe and John.
“And I told you she needed to be told before something like this happened,” John retorted. “Mom could have been killed. Aubrey could have had a heart attack.”
“Well, she knows now,” Vina shot back. “So you can quit bitchin’ about it.” She turned back to the doorway where Rose, Lettie, and all the others were lurking. “You did this on purpose,” she said to Rose accusingly.
“I didn’t!” Rose insisted. “I had to… She was…”
Everyone crowded into the room and they all started talking at once.
Aubrey looked at Joe.
“Rose killed Noah?” She asked, her voice thick with dread. She realized that the real question was, who had killed Terri, but Noah was the one she had found and it was his death that still weighed on her.
Behind her, Rose gasped.
“I most certainly did not!” She told her, shocked. “I never killed anything in my life!”
Vina scoffed.
“Well,” Rose said sheepishly, looking at the floor. “Maybe a deer or two,” she admitted.
“It was you that I saw the night I got here,” Aubrey said.
“You were a day early,” Rose said defensively. “You weren’t due in until the next day, and I thought I’d have one last hurrah before we had to button things down for you.”
“You gotta not think of us like the movie theater werewolves,” Vina told her. “You need to…”
“Us?” Aubrey interrupted. “Us?!?”
She looked around the room at them. Nobody would meet her eyes. She looked at Joe. He shook his head reassuringly.
“Anyone who thinks they’re a werewolf needs to go into the other room for a while please,” Aubrey said, unable to take anymore.
Rose shrugged and left.
Aubrey looked at Vina.
“I’m not technically a werewolf anymore,” Vina told her, “on account of I’m retired.”
Aubrey closed her eyes and counted to ten.
“Anyone who is now, or ever was…”
She looked up as Vina, Lettie, Erma, Germaine, Betty, and Emaline left. Joe, Charlie, John, Armistead and Micejah were still there.
“Which one of them killed Noah?” Aubrey asked, looking around.
Joe shook his head, but it was Charlie who answered.
“Rose is the only one who still changes, and as erratic as she’s been, I promise it wasn’t her. She can’t sleep for a week after she kills a rabbit. If she’d done anything, we’d know.”
“Erratic?” Aubrey asked, confused. Was there any other type of werewolf?
“On account of the change,” Vina put in from the other room.
Joe got up, walked over, and shut the door. He came back and pulled a chair over so he could sit directly across from Aubrey and took her hands in his.
“I’m gonna tell you a story, okay?” He asked.
Aubrey nodded, too bewildered to demand instant explanations.
“About ten years ago my marriage really sucked and I was lookin’ for a way to stay away from home for the summer, so I hit on the idea of tryin’ to trace the Melungeons. People have done gene analysis of them before, but the problem is that after the civil war, they took in most anybody who didn’t fit in, so they got real diluted. I wanted to find the oldest ones I could, to try to figure out who the original Melungeons had been.”
“According to the stories, the Indians told the first explorers who came through that there was a tribe of white Indians who looked like Europeans livin’ in these hills, so we know they’d already been here for a while. Anyway, I searched around and found Vina. I came down here, but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get her to give me a sample, so I fished. It kept me away from home, so I was happy. Well, after a few summers I guess Vina decided she could trust me to come to her with anything I found, instead of callin’ CNN, so she let me take a swab. You followin’ me?” Joe asked.
Aubrey nodded. “You’ve told me all this,” Aubrey reminded him.
Joe smiled at her. He could feel her pulse slowing down and her breathing seemed less labored. He motioned for her to take a drink of the bourbon and went on.
“There are lots a different kinds of DNA tests, and to tell where someone’s ancestors came from, you usually just test for certain things that are specific to certain populations, but Vina had been so hesitant, and made me make so many promises… Well, I ran every test I could think of on her.”
Aubrey finished her drink in one long swallow. “And?” She asked.
“And she’s got about twenty-five percent more DNA than she aught.”
“I don’t understand,” Aubrey told him.
“Well, neither did I,” Joe admitted. “So I ran some more tests and tried to figure out what the extra stuff was.”
“You’re going to tell me it was wolf,” Aubrey guessed.
“Some of it,” he admitted, “but there was also a lot that had to do with cellular metabolism and protein combinations. I asked her about it and she introduced me to John. John’s known since he was young. He went into medical research to try to figure out the how and why.”
“But he isn’t one?” Aubrey asked, then realized John had taken a seat beside her on the couch and it was rude to talk about him like he wasn’t there. “You aren’t?” She corrected, turning to him.
He shook his head.
“Men can’t be,” Joe told her. “The genes in question are mitochondrial. They pass from a mother to her children, but they dead-end there in men. A man can carry the trait, but he can’t pass it on to his daughters and he can’t present.”
“So only women,” Aubrey said, realizing for the first time that she was the only woman left in the room.
Joe nodded.
“Men have known for a long time that women turn into beasts once a month,” John joked. “Around here it’s just more literal.”
Aubrey shot him a look.
“It’s like male pattern baldness,” Joe told her. “They say if you wanna know if you’re gonna be bald, you don’t look at your Dad, you look at your Mom’s brothers because the gene for it is actually passed from a mother to her children, but men can’t pass it on.”
Aubrey nodded as if she understood. She didn’t, not really, but her eyes were starting to glaze over.
“So if it wasn’t Rose, then who killed Noah?” She asked.
“The people of the hollow aren’t the only Melungeons who moved down here,” Joe reminded her. He glanced behind him, toward the ridge and the Mosley’s land.
“The Mosleys are werewolves, too?”
“Celestine Wynn was, and her daughter’s female descendants are.”
Aubrey’s hand shot up to her neck.
“If you’re about to tell me that when
The Bitch
bit me she made me a werewolf I’m…”
Joe shook his head.
“It doesn’t work like that,” he promised. “Well, sometimes it does, but not this time.”
“Sometimes?” Aubrey was extremely confused. Charlie reached forward and took the empty glass gently from her hand. He walked over to the closed door and opened it just wide enough to hand out the glass.
“Stronger,” he told Vina, giving her the glass. He closed the door again and waited.
Joe looked at John.
“Have you ever had conjunctivitis?” John asked.
Aubrey was taken aback. “You mean pinkeye?”
John nodded.
“I guess, she told him. “When I was little.”
“Do you know how you got it?”
“One of the kids at school got it and then we all did,” she said, even more confused than before.
Someone rapped on the door and Charlie opened it, took the glass, and closed it again. He handed the drink to Aubrey. She took a big gulp and sighed.
“That’s viral pinkeye,” John told her. “Did your mother ever tell you not to rub your nose and then your eyes?” He asked.