Wolf's Soul (3 page)

After a couple of deep breaths, she patted her face dry then began arranging her unfinished products. Tomorrow, she"d bring these babies to their final state.

She stacked the two unglazed mugs, three Tuscan urns, and a pot shaped like a fishbowl on the drying shelf. They need to be completely dry before being bisque fired. The initial firing would remove the physical and chemical water. Without it, 22

her products would turn into mud. And that would be as awful as having a hangnail.

Marisol placed the last pot on the drying shelf, stepped back then admired her days work. Her shelf was full. All of them made from red Alberta clay. Once they were bisque, they"d have a terra cotta appearance. Tomorrow morning, she"d fire the kiln. By mid-afternoon, the products would be ready to for display in her Bisque It store. For tonight, she"d make popcorn and watch Pride and Prejudice.

The DVD was a gift from her father on her twenty-third birthday. She"d seen it at least five times, but the story was too good it never got old. If Renée was here, she"d invite her to come over. The rainy night was perfect for a romantic, with happy ever after movie. Well, her best friend was probably having a more perfect night with her fiancé James in Florida. Lucky girl. Marisol sighed.

When will a handsome man land on my feet?
Dang, even one with a hairy back would be
okay just to keep me company right now.

Marisol removed her apron and hooked it on the peg on the wall. Her stomach growled. Man, it seemed she just had a bowl of salad with oil and vinegar for lunch and now it was time to eat again. Well, thanks to Sara Lee she wouldn"t have to cook tonight. Not that she had anything fresh in the fridge to cook anyway. And if she took the trouble of cooking, there was no one to eat dinner 23

with. Even the wolf that had been visiting her wouldn"t even join her. Such a finicky wolf.

She wondered if he would show his handsome face today. The day her father died, the wolf showed up at her door. He stayed in one spot watching her with his sharp blue eyes. She didn"t shoo him away. Her dad, a veterinarian who treated and loved all kinds of animals, would never do such a thing. Besides, she liked him.

Not only was he a handsome wolf with brown, grey, black and white fur, he also had eyes that bespoke kindness, intensity and intelligence. When he looked at her, it was as if he was a man admiring what he was seeing. His visits became regular.

Most of the time, she felt he was trying to communicate or say something. One time, she thought she heard him say something. Of course, it was absurd. Yet, when she met his eyes, a creepy feeling ran up her spine and made her shiver.

Her father told her once that all she had to do was look into an animal"s eyes and she"d be able to see all the way down to his tail—if he had one. With this particular wolf, it was hard to go beyond his beautiful bluer than blue eyes. He"d never acted like a dog that would lower his snout on a bowl of water or food. Not once had he touched the cut up meat and kibbles she"d left for him.

The same time every day, he would come and sit just inside the door, watch her work on the wheel, and then—the most interesting part—whenever she said I"m done for the day, he would lower his head as if in acknowledgment then he"d 24

disappear into the wooded property. It was the oddest thing. She bet if her father was still around, he"d have an explanation for that kind of behavior.

Marisol wished the wolf would poke his nose at her door tonight. She badly needed a company.

A flash of lightning lit the room. It had been raining all day. Wolf must be hiding somewhere dry or huddled inside his cold and miserable den wherever that was. Better than being here or in the pound. He shouldn"t be here anyway but somewhere up in the North Cascades.

Everyone believed the reappearance of the wolves had to do with the missing pets and number of dead deer carcasses found. Well, wolves were carnivores. They would eat anything. Marisol sighed. She hoped her wolf didn"t step on an animal trap.

All her life, she"d seen only a handful of wolves. She often thought of them as very private animals and that they prefer to stay away from people. Now, she believed otherwise. They just like to keep their distance and watch from afar.

Sometimes, when she spotted them in the woods, she had this feeling that they were guards looking out watching for…

A loud crashing sound made her jump. “Eeekk!”

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What the hell was that about?
Marisol stilled. She listened for more sound.

Nothing. She"d left the barn door ajar in case her wolf showed up. The wind must have blown it. Crud, it sounded like someone had tried to break the wall.

A burglar wouldn"t make that awful loud noise. He would be one stupid burglar if he did. It must be the wind. For safe measure she grabbed the baseball bat leaning up against the corner of the drying room. Heart hammering against her chest, she gripped her bat with both hands unsure whether she should she go out there or lock herself in the room until whatever caused the noise was gone. What if she was right about the wind blowing the barn door wide open?

Yup, I should go out there.
“This is my barn, for Pete"s sakes.”

Instead of rushing outside of the drying room to see what caused the sound, she moved stealthily as a cat on the roof. Marisol opened the door and poked her head out real quick. No one was in the barn but the door was wide open. She looked again. The wind howled and whipped against the wall spraying water on the lump on the floor.

“What the…Wolf?”

If it weren"t for his face, she would think someone had dumped a bundle of wet carpet on her front door.

Dropping the bat, she ran toward him. He was soaking wet bleeding like a gutter heavy with rain and looked dead. “Oh no, buddy. Please don"t be dead.”

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The wind blew spraying more rain inside. Heck, how was she going to stop the rain from coming in? Buddy here was blocking the door. She dropped on her knees.

“Hey there. What happened?”

Poultice
.

“Poultice?” Marisol looked around. She was sure she heard someone say poultice. It was faint, but she heard it. ”Did you say poultice? Of course not. You"re a wolf. It must have thought out loud. Bad habit. God, you look horrible.”

She peered closer where the blood oozed. Through dirt and bits of grass, she could see a big cut and raw flesh. Marisol winced as if she were the one bleeding.

God, he must be in awful pain. She must stop the bleeding. Her dad had kept his bandages and medicine in his clinic. “Be right back. Don"t go anywhere.”

I won’t.

“You won"t—” Marisol turned to look at the wolf. “Jesus, I must be losing my mind.”

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Marisol ran in her father"s clinic. It didn"t take her long to find the black leather medicinal kit. For a briefest moment, she stopped in the middle of the clinic and took a deep breath. Tobacco. The clinic still held the scent of her father"s smoke. Everything looked the same. His father"s favorite plaid shirt hung on the back of the old wooden chair, his black medicinal book with a pair of reading glasses on the small desk in the corner. Nothing changed. The only one missing was her father"s presence and his raspy laughter.

“I miss you, Dad.” Medicine kit in hand, she grabbed a handful of rags stacked on the shelf and an old beach towel then left the room.

The wolf remained where he was. He looked dead. Marisol kneeled in front of the wolf then lifted one heavy paw three times as big as her smaller one. She shook it a bit looking for a sign that he was still alive. He didn"t respond. Man, where do you look for a pulse on a wolf? She pressed two fingers on the wolf"s neck. Nothing. Running her fingers through the wet silky smooth fur, she tried to feel his chest. There. It was faint but the heartbeat was definitely there.

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“What the heck did you do, buddy?” Marisol grabbed the rags and wiped the blood off his shoulder. The cut was more visible now. “Oh my god! Poor baby.

Someone tried to cut you in half.” She couldn"t take her eyes off the open wound.

How could someone do this to him?

“Baby, were you caught trying to eat someone"s cat or bunny? I"ve been giving you food so you wouldn"t have to hunt for animals.” Tears blurred her vision. Her wolf came to her even in his state of dying. Why? To say goodbye? Her fingers felt clumsy as she tried to open her father"s kit.

“Don"t die on me.” Marisol found the jar full of mixture that looked like a petroleum jelly but inky black. As soon as she unscrewed the lip, scent of mint, marjoram, and beeswax floated in the air reminding her of her father. She swallowed. No time to go maudlin right now. “Okay, I know this poultice by heart. Dad made this with my special touch. I"m not going to tell you about my contribution to this poultice because it"s weird. And to tell you the truth, I think it"s unnecessary. You see, when I tried this, it didn"t help heal my own cuts. Now, personally, I have not used this before on pets so I don"t know the effect. Dad"s the vet, you see. He said this works on wolves. You"re a wolf. So this should help you.

Damn, times like this I wish I studied animal husbandry instead of molding clay.”

She sniffed and wiped her dripping nose with her forearm.

Darn it. Crying is not going to help this wolf.

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“Okay, buddy. I"m applying this on your wound. Let"s hope Dad was right when he said this thing worked like magic.” She hoped it would work on a half-dead animal. Scooping a large goop, she spread it on the wound.

As soon as the black medicine touched the raw flesh, the wolf"s body nearly lifted off the floor as he let out a nightmarish howl. His head rose then turned to look at her. Surprised, a soft gasp escaped Marisol"s mouth.

“Wow. That was fast.” Marisol smiled and was about to add more solution on the wound when the wolf crinkled his nose baring his fangs. A low growl rumbled deep from his throat. Marisol jumped back. “Nice wolfie. Just trying to help.” Good god. The medicine must felt like hot chili on his wound.

The wolf"s eyes were dark blue but only for a few seconds. Like the reels of a slot machine, they changed to gray, to dark blue and back to gray again. They reminded her of the eyes of the dead people or zombies.
Is he dead?
Of course not.

He wouldn"t be growling if he was.

Oh so weird. His fangs, although stained with blood, still gleamed. Saliva hung on both sides of his mouth like stalactites, suspended because of its stickiness. Without taking his freaky eyes off her, the wolf stood on fours.

Marisol gasped and panted in terror.
Lord, he’s going to eat me.

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The wolf"s lips drew up quivering as he continued to snarl at her. His saliva began dripping on the floor. Marisol stared at the wolf"s elongated teeth. Was it her imagination or his teeth grew longer?

Oh god, oh god.
She tried to utter his name. No sound came out of her mouth.

The wolf lowered his head with his crinkled snout then snarled repeatedly.

“Wolf sit!” She screamed. “Please, buddy, don"t hurt me. This is Marisol. I"m just trying to help. Please. Don"t you recognize me?”

Thankfully, the wolf stopped snarling. He blinked his freaky looking eyes.

and they turned blue again. He swayed from side to side then dropped on the floor.

Oh my god.
Letting out the breath she didn"t realized she was holding, Marisol stared at the wolf at her feet. Viciousness was gone from his face. He looked like an ordinary cuddly pet. Except he wasn"t. Her wolf was a deadly beast.

She shook her hands to rid of her nervousness. No wonder Sheriff Davis wanted to get rid of the wolves. They were unpredictable and vicious. And what was that about his teeth? She would ask Sheriff Davis about it or maybe Google it.

Thunder echoed from a distance. The cold rain hadn"t let up. Marisol shivered. She supposed it was a good thing the wolf moved. Now she could close the door. Quickly, she got up and shut the door. Leaning against it, she looked down on the wolf lying on the floor. What the heck happened to him? He transformed into a big bad wolf with freaky eyes. She waited a minute to make 31

sure the wolf wouldn"t wake up again before cautiously kneeling in front of him again. The rise and fall of his chest told her he was alive. Picking up the jar, she looked at it. Was her father talking literally or figuratively? Well, she didn"t need to know the answer. What mattered was it worked.

Marisol grabbed a strip of clean cloth and then lathered it with the goo. She was about to wrap it on the wound when she remember her bat. Quickly, she ran back to where she dropped in on the floor. “Okay, I"m going to bandage your wound to stop the bleeding. But don"t you dare snarl at me again. I"ll smash your head with this bat. God, I must be nuts for doing this.” She laid the bat beside her.

Praying the wolf would remain asleep and wouldn"t react to the medicine, she slowly wrapped the cloth on the wound. It wasn"t easy considering the wolf weighed a ton. She had to squeeze the material underneath him to be able to wound the cloth around his body. At least, he remained asleep. Thank god.

Marisol looked at the mess on the floor. She should take him to the clinic and close the door. “Got to move you, bud.” She unfolded the towel and placed it beside the wolf. “I"m gonna have to drag you.” Just like the bandage, she squeezed it beneath the wolf and then pulled it on the other side until his whole body was on top of it. “Boy, you don"t look fat, but you"re dang too heavy. Just hang on, buddy. I"ll take you to Dad"s clinic. You"ll be comfy in there.” It would be best if she 32