Chapter 35
The Wainwrights had no idea that they had been one of the topics of gossip amongst the vampires in the club that night, or even that their father’s lawyer Miss Hell and the vampire that Caleb occasionally referred to as Missy were one and the same. Neither they nor anyone else ever found out exactly what happened to poor Dirk Dreamer, either, since he chose to heed Vladislaus’ warning, and he never talked about his experience at the club in Forgotten Hollow. If asked by anyone who knew he went there, he just disdainfully said the drinks sucked, and the crowd was about what you’d expect in a place like that, and little else.
Although they had not forgotten about the threat of Vladislaus, they were preoccupied with the day to day matters of home, work, and family. Susan was still trying to balance working from home to save the cost of day care for James, although it got trickier by the day. She found that if she could get him tired enough to take longer naps, but not so overtired that his sleep schedule got disrupted, she could get more done during those. One way she found to get him to sleep well was to load him up with the attention he was always craving by reading to him to get him to fall asleep. It was developmentally good for children his age anyway, and he loved the stories. Blair always had too, she recalled, and she supposed if she had not been so tired and distracted herself, she would have remembered that sooner. Now, James looked forward to story and nap time and his little body had developed a natural readiness for that afternoon crash that gave her some much-needed peace and quiet to do the focus-heavy aspects of her work.
“Today’s story is about a little boy named Fred with a magical llama named Fuzzfoot.” Susan showed him the cover and then opened the book.
“Fred was a funny little boy with a funny little friend…” She turned the page and kept reading, while James listened, eyelids growing heavy, but happy as he nestled into the covers.
Boyd made it a point to give James specific one-on-one time every day when he got home from work, too. He was almost always up and energized for an hour or two after that, and Susan was burnt out from chasing him around all day. Not that he ignored Blair, of course, but being so much older she would be up for much longer, and she was very independent. She knew if she needed either of them, they were there for her. Little James did not seem to have that assurance no matter how often they reassured him otherwise. So, the first thing Boyd did after getting home and changing out of his work clothes was to sit down with him.
“Hey there. Did you have a good day?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Mommy said you were well behaved most of it. That’s good. And that you learned to stack your blocks higher, too! I’m very impressed. That means you’re learning.”
James grinned and bounced at the praise.
“But she also said you told her no a few times when she asked you to settle down. Now, we talked about that yesterday. Remember?”
He just looked back at him innocently.
Boyd was not quite sure if he truly did not remember, or if their son was as bright as he suspected and pulling a fast one. He had a feeling it was the latter, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt and treated it as a teaching moment anyway. He met his eyes to prod his memory gently. “We talked about how you need to listen when Mommy asks you to settle down or play with your toys gently, or not jump on the couch. It’s important to listen and do that when Mommy or I ask.”
“Or me,” Blair interjected on a walk-by from the kitchen, grabbing a snack.
“Or your big sister,” Boyd amended. “We can’t have you getting hurt or breaking things.”
His little face started to pout.
“Now, now. I’m not mad. I’m sure Mommy already punished you. I’m just reminding you how important it is to be good, okay?”
“Kay,” he said through a distinctly sullen look.
“And you’re being pretty good now, so as long as you keep it up…” He gave him a thumbs-up, which perked James back up a little.
“Pay wiff, Daddy?”
“Okay, we can play for a bit.” He pulled James onto his lap and loaded a cute interactive game onto the tablet.
Blair was beyond done with sharing a room with her little brother, but she was resigned to the fact that it was not going to change anytime soon whether she liked it or not. If she was in there doing something interesting, there was a good chance he would follow her in and watch because Big Sister was apparently fascinating! “Well, I know I’m cooler than Mom and Dad, but seriously, what is so much fun about watching me build blocks?” she quipped as he came in and parked on his toddler bed to play with one of his toys. “They must have something really boring on TV again.”
James just alternated between flying his little helicopter around and babbling at Blair. “Build big blocks?”
“Yeah, I’m trying to make a castle. It’s kind of complicated.”
“I help?”
Blair made a face. “I think it’s too hard for you. Lots of small pieces that have to go in exact spots. I need to use the book. Besides, these blocks are for bigger kids. The pieces aren’t safe for you. That’s why we keep them on a high shelf where you can’t reach them when no one’s around. If you want to play, you need the toddler ones.”
“But I wanna play wiff Blair!”
“Not right now, James. Maybe if I was doing something easier. Just play over there with your toys on the bed for now. But hey! You’re getting my name right!” She smiled at him. “Good job!”
However, the vampire situation was not completely off the Wainwrights’ radar. The possibility of Vladislaus returning was something both Susan and Boyd thought about often, even if they tried not to. While Susan had resigned herself to at least a temporary disgusting deal of just letting him have a bite and going his way to make it the least miserable as possible, Boyd was still desperate to come up with something that might put a stop to Vladislaus stalking Susan, and eventually Blair, for good. Even though he knew Susan did not want him to, and even though all the vampires told him the werewolves were more trouble than they were worth, he was convinced there had to be more to it than they were telling him. After all, if vampires and werewolves were natural enemies, even Caleb and Lilith would have some bias, and perhaps a natural apprehension of a mortal they were chummy with knowing something that could potentially be used against them if things ever became less than friendly. But as an open-minded scientist, he was willing to hear the wolves’ side of things from a friendly one.
So, one day while he was at work, he convinced his supervisor to let him take a day trip up to Moonwood Mill to collect samples. It was not entirely unjustified. Like the trip into Forgotten Hollow, there were specimens that could only be found in that region. Lake Lunvik was ancient, and its waters were reputed to hold magical specimens and properties, although this had never been verified in any of their documentation. It was easy enough to get a few jars of water and catch a few fish to verify that. Moonwood Mill was also the only place the rare moonpetal plant grew naturally, and they had never been able to replicate a healthy specimen in the lab. Culture a few cells, yes. Keep an entire living plant or even a graft a thriving one, no. Finding some fresh seeds or cuttings would be a nice bonus for their botany projects. Not surprisingly, it was not a place many scientists were eager to take a trip to, either. The town was hardly known for its five-star accommodations or welcoming hospitality. Or even great roads for getting there. Boyd was half surprised he didn’t blow out a tire on one of the gravel roads winding up the mountain to get there.
The wolves really don’t like outsiders just dropping by, do they?If the town had been like in the movies when a stranger walked into the small-town bar with the jukebox, he would have sworn the music stopped and all eyes were on him the second he parked his car and stepped out, even though he did not see anyone around.
It was far more rural and run-down than he imagined, too, and he was glad he had full reception on his cellphone and that his GPS worked. He supposed werewolves and their keener senses navigated and enjoyed that wilderness, but to him it looked like exactly the kind of place that it was. Somewhere that had an economic boom-and-bust decades ago, was now populated by only a dedicated few who refused to leave, avoided by pretty much everyone else, and that only even got high speed internet a couple of years ago. Boyd’s technology-loving heart cringed at the thought of living like that, and he could only imagine what Susan would think. Probably something along the lines of that she’d stayed in campgrounds better than that, and she’d hated every minute of that, too.
That was not to say it lacked a sense of community. Quite the opposite. There was an active community board right by the library, where Boyd parked. He figured that would be the place to go for information, and while he had ignored Caleb’s warning about seeing the werewolves in general, he did think it was wise to start with a public place, especially now that he was here. If for no other reason than Moonwood Mill looked like a place that would be very easy to get lost, with rather poor road signage and even worse roads. He was not much of a hiker, but he was not sure his sedan that did just fine as a commuter car back in Brindleton Bay could take another major whack with one of these surprise rural mountain potholes without a call for roadside assistance. Who would probably take six hours to get there in a place like this.
Boyd was also impressed by the large statue in the town square. The craftsmanship from old steel mill pieces was clever, and he admired it. It was beautiful in an industrial sort of way. Many wrote werewolves off as all feral savages. Certainly, that seemed to be what vampires thought of them. But aside from those who were the most far gone, weren’t they also people the rest of the time, when the moon wasn’t full? If there were vampires like Caleb and Lilith who had humanity left in them, it stood to reason there had to be werewolves who were the same, who regretted what happened to them when the moon phase changed and tried to prevent themselves from harming innocent people. He pondered the statue for a moment. And, all morality aside, they came from spellcasters just like the vampires. A frenzied feral phase under the moon aside, clearly at least some of them could retain their intellect the rest of the time, whether they were human-looking psychopaths or not.
With that not necessarily comforting thought in mind, he headed toward the library, although its run-down appearance on the outside did not do the werewolves’ reputation for being intellectual beings that appreciated and craved knowledge as much as they did raw meat any favors.
The inside of it did not, either. In fact, it was worse. The books they had were stacked and piled on the industrial shelving in such disorder that even he cringed, and he was far from a neat freak. Even worse, they were not even protected from the elements, because the front door was apparently one of the only doors protecting the place from the outside elements. He could see an open archway out to the back.
I hope they at least have the sense to put a tarp or a board over that when it rains hard or in the winter, he thought, cringing at what it must do to the books and the… the poor electronics! Oh, Watcher. Those poor
old computers he spotted in the room beyond. At least they had computers to look things up, even if they were at least a decade out of date, but they could at least have the decency not to let the poor things get rained on, even if those old cases were pretty sturdy. Which made them newer than the ancient beat up, stained, and scratched rugs and furniture. There were
so many scratches everywhere, he couldn’t help but notice as he walked in…
The door had not even shut behind Boyd before the librarian stood up from the chess table and faced him. “Can I help you?”
“Uh, hi. I’m here to use the library. This is the public library, right?”
“The Moonwood Mill Library, yes. I’m Shaun Marshall, local librarian.” He eyed him keenly. “I can tell you’re not local.”
Boyd swallowed and tried not to be anxious with the way he was staring at him. “What gave it away? The car that was almost swallowed by the potholes on the way up the mountain? I noticed most of the vehicles around here are trucks or a little more, uh, utilitarian,” he said nervously, although he suspected it was probably that he stuck out like a sore thumb as an outsider.
“Now you know why,” Shaun said wryly. “What brings you here for research? We don’t get a lot of that. Not that I mind, it’s just interesting. As you can see, we’re not exactly a modern kind of facility here. I’m one of four locals who even went to university, one of two who didn’t drop out, and only one who came back after graduating and didn’t stick with a much better job. I just love reading. Language major. But I can do my writing anywhere and still get paid.” He looked him over and noticed his jacket with sample jars and raised an eyebrow. “Fish and wildlife commission or game warden?”
Although Shaun the librarian seemed friendly enough, Boyd imagined that anyone, especially an intellectual sort, who would willingly come back to Moonwood Mill after getting a degree, was either a hardcore werewolf ally, probably with werewolf relatives in town, or a werewolf themselves. Either way, the way he looked at him when he asked if he was a state representative hinted to Boyd that the werewolves did not much care for those. He imagined not. He doubted they had hunting licenses for what they did on rampages, and he would not be surprised if a bureaucrat or two had gone missing up here in the past after being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“No. Nothing like that. I’m from Future Sim Labs.” He held up his badge to show he was telling the truth. “We just want some biological samples for analysis.”
“What kind of samples?” Shaun’s tone was even, not unfriendly, but not entirely unchanged, and he stared at him intently.
Plum. I think he thinks I want something from a werewolf. Which was somewhat true, although not the way he thought. All Boyd wanted about that was information, but he had the sense that now was not the time to ask anything like that, so he showed him some of the collection vessels in his vest. “Water samples from Lake Lunvik. We want to analyze it and see if it has any differences on a molecular level that grant it the properties that the old spellcaster lore claims it does. Ideally, to establish a baseline against an eventual full moon analysis. Also, we’re curious about the Luna fish and what information you have on it, and maybe if I get lucky, catch one, although I hear that’s something for an experienced fisherman, which I’m not. Regardless, we have next to no literature on it, and neither does the internet, but we figured if any old fishing research texts exist, they’d be here in Moonwood Mill. Sadly, I couldn’t confirm that from your library index online, but I still thought I’d try that before fishing in the actual lake.”
At that, Shaun let out a rueful chuckle. “No, as you can guess, my beloved hometown is a little behind the times when it comes to such things as technology and getting things online. We do have a phone, though, and I do answer it during the library’s hours. I’d have been happy to send one through the mail to you guys rather than make you drive up here through pothole hell for a fishing book. I hope you at least got some nice scenic views of our majestic mountain on the way.”
“I did,” Boyd admitted. “This place is pretty. Surprised you don’t get more campers.”
He laughed. “Are you, though, Mr. Scientist? With our reputation? I doubt it.”
“Okay, adventurous campers,” Boyd said sheepishly. “My name’s Boyd, by the way. Boyd Wainwright.”
“Nice to meet you.” They shook hands, and Shaun relaxed and continued their conversation. “So, while I’ll be happy to navigate you to what books we’ve got on the Luna fish and the wildlife in and around Lake Lunvik, I can spare you the frustration of trying to catch one yourself today. They’re an odd species. They lay mostly dormant near the bottom of the lake unless it’s the full moon. That’s when they bite.”
A lot of that around here, Boyd thought, though he knew better than to say that. “And the moon’s not full.” He had made sure of that before going.
“Waxing gibbous.”
Of course, he knows the moon phases by heart. Boyd figured he might as well ask about the moonpetal as well, as he genuinely wanted samples of that and the water from Lake Lunvik. It was not merely a cover, for he was curious, and the lab intended to analyze them. That was why he was getting away with doing this on company time, after all. “What about moonpetal? Where could I find that? I know it’s rare, so I’m assuming it doesn’t just grow wild by the side of the road. Down by Lake Lunvik?”
“Yes, and no. It is very rare, even around here. As I’m sure you know, it’s a magical spell remnant, so like some of the stuff from the magic realm it’s… a weird plant. And a lot more fragile than a lot of them. It only grows in Moonwood Mill soil and it needs Lunvik Lake’s water, too. Even locals here have tried growing it without much luck. It really only does well in its home zone. Not to say I don’t think science is amazing, so if you scientists want to try, I say go for it. I’m all for advancements, but I don’t know how much luck you’ll have. I don’t even think the top sages in the magic realm duplicated it there when they tried, which really rankled the mooncasters that they even tried, by the way.” He adjusted his glasses. “But their beef’s a little more personal because, you know, the history. At least, I assume you do. I’m no fool. Any scientist coming here on field research has done at least a little research on that, I’m sure. If for nothing else than their own protection.” He gave him a knowing smile. “And you did mention spellcaster lore when you first mentioned Lake Lunvik’s water, so I know you know some of it.”
“I’m aware of it, yes. That mooncasters and vampires are both… offshoots of spellcasters, and there’s bad blood between all of them.” He regretted the ill thought-out choice of words as soon as he said it and hoped it did not come off as offensive.
“To put it mildly, although the vampires would find that pun less amusing than I do, I bet. As a bookworm and a language major, I always appreciate them, though.” He met his eyes a bit more seriously, as they were still alone in the empty library. “I’ve noticed you’ve avoided using the word ‘werewolf,’ too. I get that, but you don’t have to worry about that with me, as I don’t consider it anything to get upset about unless you’re using it disrespectfully. You’re probably wondering if I’m one, or who is or who isn’t. That’s the thing. Unlike, say, a vampire, it’s not something you’ll be able to tell easily, so be careful. There are a lot of us in Moonwood Mill. And yes, I did say ‘us,’” he confirmed. “I hope this pleasant exchange means you won’t hold that against me, and I’m not about to have some scientists descend on me for some DNA samples or anything like that. Because I’m not up for a bunch of rude privacy invasions or being treated like a lab animal, and like a certain green comic book character, you probably won’t like me if I get too angry.”
“Oh, no! Of course not,” Boyd agreed, holding up his hand. “We’re not like that at Future Sim Labs. I’ve worked there for years, and I can assure you the occult research we do is all on a strictly volunteer basis. Heck, I’ve worked side by side with a mermaid for years. Out of respect to their identity I can’t say who, but they’ve got no complaints. About that, anyway. Paychecks, well…”
“Hah. Don’t we all complain about that? I’m sure you’re paid better than me. And I hope they paid you mileage for this trip.”
“Yeah, though I don’t know if it’s enough to make up for the potholes. Hopefully the samples will get me a nice bonus. Any hints on where I could find the moonpetal?”
“Unfortunately, it only grows in that one spot I told you about. The top Moonwood cliff. But you can’t just hike up there from the outside. Even with rock climbing gear, it’d be rough for an expert climber. The only way on foot up there is through a tunnel and,” he looked him over, “I don’t recommend you, an outsider, going into any dark tunnels alone around here. And by not alone I mean not without a local guide.”
“Too easy to get lost?” Boyd guessed.
“Or worse.”
“Slip, fall, die, and never be found again?”
“Not that tunnel, though if you went into the wrong mining tunnel, maybe. No. I’d worry more about who might be chilling out in there, if you get my meaning.”
Boyd cleared his throat. “I do, uh, have a freeze ray in my car.”
“While that would no doubt be a
fantastic sight to witness, and there is at least one individual I can think of who could certainly use a good cooling-off period, so to speak, I fear for what would be left of you and how much you would suffer if you missed, or if it didn’t work and he got hold of you.” Shaun patted Boyd on the shoulder. “So please, friend, don’t do that. Please don’t do that. Hit a werewolf with that and you’re going to make them very upset if it doesn’t work as intended.” He chuckled. “Though like I said, I’d love to see you demonstrate that thing on something else, if you don’t mind. It sounds amazing!”
“Sure. Got a soda or a water bottle you need insta-chilled? It’s great for that.”
“Awesome.”
“So, any idea where I might find a reliable guide?” Boyd asked hopefully.
“If you’re asking me, I’ve got to stay here all day. Sorry. Otherwise, I’d be happy to show you,” he replied, just as a local teenager walked in.
Boyd paused for a moment, then decided to go ahead and ask something else he wondered about. “What about Lily Zhu? Do you know where I can find her? I’ve heard she might be someone I could talk to around here.”
Although the kid who came in went into the other room to use one of the ancient computers, he could feel him staring at him anyway.
I must really stick out like a sore non-werewolf paw, he thought, while Shaun answered.
“You did?”
“I know someone who knew her a long time ago.”
“Hmm. Must’ve been a while. She hasn’t left town much in a real long time, from what I know of her. But you can usually find her over at the Volkov place, where she lives, or near the gardens by the Collective tree. Both are over across the river that way.” He gestured in the general direction. “Neither will be on a map or GPS, but the gardens will be easy enough to spot from the road. There’s a set of monkey bars and bunch of garden plots right by the road after you cross the bridge, and a huge tree. Can’t miss it. Volkov’s place is the first big house right after it. But it’s the opposite direction across the bridge you’ll want to go if you want to hit Lake Lunvik for your samples. For that, you’ll want to head down the river that way, but you’ll have to walk a bit. You can’t take your car lakeside.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Just remember what I said about the tunnels. They’re not safe, especially around the time the moonpetal is blooming. If you really want to see the cliff and can’t find anyone to take you, and you need moonpetal samples, you can give me your contact info before you leave, and I’ll meet up with you at the edge of town to escort you there and get you some fresh samples at the next full moon. I’m curious about what you might be able to do with it. I’d rather handle it that way than see you or any other innocent scientists get hurt.”
“Oh, you mean by trying to go myself on the full moon? No, I know better than that.”
“Good.”
“But I was thinking I’d still like to go and see the area itself today. Get some soil samples, maybe some clippings of the plant—”
“If you find Lily and she takes you up there, great, but if not, again, let me know. I can get that for you sooner if you leave me with a list of what you want. The tunnel
really isn’t a good idea. You shouldn’t risk it,” he emphasized. “We’ve got some books back in the wildlife section that have information about moonpetal if you want them, though.” He pointed to the back room where the computers were. “Back where Luna fish books are. Middle shelf.”
“All right. Thanks. You’ve been a huge help. Go grab a not-so-cold drink and I’ll give you that demo of the freeze ray, as promised, and I’ll go find what I need and be on my way.”
“Can’t wait!” Shaun started for the door, then paused. “Oh, one more thing while you’re down near the lake. This is really important. If you see any sign of Greg, just go the other way. Don’t mess with him. Don’t try to talk to him. Don’t try to engage in any way. Just don’t.”
That’s the third warning about Greg now. Having heard it from three independent sources, Boyd could not help but be immensely curious. “Okay. Can I ask…?”
“To make a long story short, he’s a very old, very powerful, very angry, and very bitter immortal werewolf that’s a veritable fountain of rage and fury and perpetually in beast form these days. He hates everyone and everything with a passion. Other werewolves, vampires, humans, spellcasters, everything that’s happy, because he’s not. He’s angry at life because he lost his fated mate ages ago and can’t cope, and he’s marinated in that bitterness and rage ever since. Takes it out on the world. There’s no reaching a soul that lost. Many have tried. Many ended up dead. Others wound up alive and scarred and changed into werewolves that he now hates, too.”
“Wow.”
“So, like I said, do yourself a favor and just stay away. I’d hate to see you mauled just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s happened before, too many times, and he lives down by Lake Lunvik.”
Boyd nodded. “Gotcha. I’ll be careful.”
And keep my freeze ray handy.
Author’s Note: Sorry for the time between updates! I’ve been really busy this summer. I’ve hardly even had time to play the latest expansion, although what I have done with it, I’ve enjoyed so far, despite the few typical EA glitches and goofiness I’ve seen, which, let’s face it, is to be expected. Regardless, I’ll try to get more of this up soon, and if you’re still reading, thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you’re still enjoying it.
