Chapter 17: A Not So Subtle Threat

Willow’s head was still spinning from the night before as she walked to work. Her grandmother had offered her the car again, but Willow had too much energy flowing through her. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face, even as the rain began to fall.

The streets were quiet, the tourists still sleeping off the night before. Willow’s heart was soaring, and she knew it was only a matter of time before it came crashing back to reality, but she didn’t let that dampen her mood.

When she walked into her store, she remembered that she hadn’t cleaned up last night in her rush to see Garin. With a groan, she trudged back to the utility closet for the cleaning supplies. She flipped on the radio as she wiped down the tables, singing softly along, the strong scent of the lemon cleaner filling her nose.

Mopping the floor, she noticed a curious set of footprints on the wooden planks. They lead to her office. She placed her boots next to the print on the floor. They were much larger than hers. She felt a chill go through her bones as she realized that someone must have been in here or was still here. She tried scenting the air, but her cleaner had covered any linger scents.

She wiped her hands on her apron and followed the footprints cautiously, ready to shift if needed, even though she really didn’t want to ruin this shirt. The prints lead past the bathroom and down the short hall to her closed office door. She never left this closed. She glanced to her right. She could see through her prep room to the front counter. Whoever had come in here had made sure to take the more convoluted way to her office, less chance of being seen.

Taking a deep breath, she twisted the knob and opened the door. She flicked on the light switch; her office was empty. With a sigh of relief, she sagged against the doorframe. As she was about to turn and finish mopping something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. There was something on her chair.

Curious, she strode over, wondering if this was a festival prank from Caitlin. She seemed the type to get caught up in the local lore and spread the cheer. It looked like a mask. She grabbed a handful of the matted grey hair and lifted the object up. Her stomach felt sick.

It was a severed wolf’s head, its tongue lolling. She threw it away from her, her other hand covering her mouth, tears filling her eyes. There was a note stabbed into her chair with a slim silver letter opener. She wrapped the edge of her shirt around her hand and pulled the blade from the chair, setting it on her desk.

The note was penned across an expensive, thick paper. Printed across the center it simply read,

“Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?”

She caught a whiff from the paper. It was similar to Garin’s with the woodsy tones but there was a sharper, more acrid scent that cut through the softer notes. It repulsed her. She set the note next to the letter opener. Pushing her office chair to the side, she crouched down next to the grotesque pile on the floor.

With a ruler, she rolled the head over and relief washed over it. It was just a mask of a wolf. She fell back onto her heels, breathing heavily. Someone knew about her and Garin. It had to be his family but who and how serious was this threat? She couldn’t go to her grandmother or the other elders. Could she?

There were rumors of wolves and humans mating but never hunters and wolves. Humans were frowned upon but hunters, especially a Red Hood, were strictly forbidden.

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A soft thump sounded against the front door, signaling a package. Loriann wiped her floured hands on her flowered apron and walked towards the door, curious. She wasn’t expecting anything. Perhaps Willow had ordered another book.

There was a plain white heavy envelope laying on the doormat, no return address. Just her name scribbled across the middle. She picked it up, a frown forming between her eyebrows. She brought the letter to her writing desk nestled in the corner of the living room. With a flick of her wrist, she slit the envelope open and the smell of hunters staggered her.

“This is curious,” she said softly aloud and pulled out the contents. There was a letter and another square, wrapped in tissue paper. She shook out the letter, her eyes growing wide with fear and disbelief at the contents.

“Willow, no,” she moaned, not wanting to look at what she knew now were pictures. She set the letter aside and picked up the stack. Sure enough, they were of Willow and Garin. Holding hands, his arms around her shoulders, kissing.

She sat incredibly still for a moment, not wanting to relive this again. Checking the clock, she knew Willow would still be at work. She would talk to her later. Wearily, she climbed the steps up to their attic. This had been Willow’s mother’s room when she lived here. It remained untouched. White drop cloths covered the furniture, and everything lay in a thick layer of grey dust. Even Willow didn’t know this was her mother’s childhood home.

Digging through a large closet, Loriann pulled out a large, faded hatbox. She lifted the lid and sat on the dusty bed cover. The pictures in the box were old, some of the color leeched by age but her face was still beautiful. Her hair was darker than Willow’s, so red it was nearly black. Her eyes a deep honeyed shade that was rare amongst their kind.

With a heavy heart, Loriann placed Willow’s photos and the letter into the box next to her mother’s. Before closing the lid, she pulled out the last picture she had of her daughter. Her face was open and happy such a rare sight in those days. In her arms, she held a baby with a thatch of thick red hair and bright yellow eyes. Behind her, a handsome man, his arms wrapped around both of them. His eyes an ordinary brown, stared out towards the camera.