9. Catriona

9

CATRIONA

T he tavern is across from the reeve's office. It's a wide, squat building, only one story tall, painted red like a barn. It doubles as an inn and boardinghouse, with a separate building out back with rooms for rent.

On the porch, Friedrich, the baker who brought us the cake earlier, speaks with a woman we haven't met yet. Both are somewhere in their late forties and clean, tidy types.

"Mr. Ward, Mrs. Ward," he greets us, motioning us over with a friendly wave. "Have you met Mrs. Williams?"

"We haven't." I step forward, greeting the woman. "Hello."

She's pretty, with dark brown hair that she wears up in a bun, eyes that match, and fair skin. Her cheeks are pink, making me think she's enjoying Friedrich's attention.

"Please call me Catriona," I add.

"Jane." She takes my hand, her soft smile contagious. "My word, you are lovely, aren't you?"

"Oh, thank you," I say, flushing as I gesture toward Felix. "This is my husband."

He steps forward, clasping his hands behind his back and bowing his head, the perfect gentleman. "Mrs. Williams."

"Mr. Ward."

"Call me Felix, please," he insists.

"And you must call me Jane." She smiles warmly at me again. "We're a tight-knit community—an extended family, really."

"In each other's business, is what Jane means," Friedrich laughs.

"Oh, certainly." She grins. "We're as nosy as they come."

I study them both, liking them and hating that I must question whether one of them is our wolf.

"Jane is our schoolteacher," Friedrich adds.

"I can't quite place your accent," I say to her.

"Now who's the nosy one?" Felix nudges me, but it's all for the show.

"Guilty," I laugh, feigning embarrassment. "Are you from Valette?"

"Rialis."

"We have a friend whose family lives in Rialis," I say.

"Oh," she exclaims brightly. "Which family?"

"Renward."

"Oh my." She blinks. "You have friends in high places, don't you?"

I nearly wince, realizing she'll want to know how we're acquainted.

"The late Lord Renward commissioned a custom clock from my father," Felix says seamlessly. "It was a massive thing—obscene, really. In the process, we got to know his younger brother, Sterling." He looks at me. "It took how long? A year?"

"At least," I say with a laugh. Then I turn back to Jane. "How did you end up in Braunwin?"

"My grandparents live here, so after my husband passed away, they wrote to tell me there was an opening in the school, and I came back."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say.

She waves away my empathy with a smile. "I'm not. He was an alcoholic with a wretched temper."

Unsure how to respond to that, I nod.

I want to ask her how long she's been back, but it will look suspicious if I keep rattling off the same questions to everyone I meet. I'll work it into another conversation later. Werewolf hunts are not sprints, but slow, methodical sweeps.

"I'll introduce you to my grandmother soon," Jane promises me. "She'll love you, and she makes the best shortbread. We'll have tea."

I step toward the door, the mention of tea making my stomach grumble. "I'll be looking forward to it."

"Enjoy your supper," Friedrich says, the conversation naturally coming to an end.

"Thank you again for the cake." Felix places his hand on the small of my back and leads me into the tavern. I have the childish urge to step away from his touch, but only because I like it.

This tavern looks much like the one in Waldst, with stone floors, dark wood, and iron lanterns. Tall tables are scattered about the space, and a long bar travels the length of the left wall. A large fireplace serves as the main focal point of the room.

"Cabbage," Felix mutters with a sigh, making me laugh.

"Welcome," the barman calls. "Sit anywhere you like."

We find a spot toward the back, where we can watch the room.

A few minutes later, the barman comes to our table, depositing two steins of beer we didn't order. "You must be our new clockmaker. I'm Bruno."

The man is in his mid-thirties, with brown hair and a full beard.

"This is my parents' place," he continues, leaning against the table like he's settling in to chat. "I'm watching it while they're in Hellenford."

"You must have grown up here," I say.

"I learned to walk in this very room."

"What are your parents doing in Hellenford?" Felix asks, somehow keeping the question from sounding too invasive.

"My mother is sick, and they need to be closer to her physicians."

"I'm sorry to hear it," I say.

He nods and then waves one of the barmaids over. "Mitzi, come meet the Wards."

The young woman has dark brunette hair and a nice smile. She wears a red skirt and a white apron. Her blouse has short sleeves, and the neckline is embroidered with green vines and red flowers. She couldn't look more Brechian if she tried, but the outfit is charming.

"Mitzi is Friedrich's daughter," Bruno says. "Have you met Friedrich?"

"We have," I say. "He brought us a cake."

"He was eager to meet you," Mitzi says.

When she and Felix begin chatting about the bakery, my attention wanders.

A young man who's not much older than a boy drinks alone in the far corner. I find myself watching him, unnerved. He's scrawny, and his coppery brown hair sticks up in odd angles like he took shears to it himself and didn't care about the outcome.

But what's truly concerning is his dark expression and general aura of disinterest around him. He's too young to brood.

"That's Cyril," Bruno says quietly when he catches me studying him. "He's a bit of a loner."

I nod, turning away from the young man, focusing on the people who are eager to make our acquaintance.

The night passes quickly. We're just about to leave, my head full of names, when a woman approaches us. Her strangely ageless face makes it difficult to tell whether she's in her thirtieth year or her sixtieth, but her hair is gray, rather wiry, and wild around her shoulders.

"Hello," Felix says, coaxing her over when it seems like she's hesitant to take the last few steps. "I'm Felix, and this is my wife, Catriona. We've just moved here."

A shy smile flickers across her face, and she comes forward and offers us…a monster.

I draw in a startled breath when I spot the ceramic creation in her hands. It looks like a garden gnome, but with long, folded ears, sharp teeth, and a grotesque body in tiny clothing. It's the perfect likeness of a redcap.

"For you," she says softly. "For your garden."

Her mannerisms are almost childlike.

I accept the statuette, glancing at Felix nervously. "Thank you?"

"He's wearing a little vest," Felix says, glancing at me and subtly raising his brows. "And a knitted hat."

"Yes. It will keep the monsters away," she whispers…and then she turns around and walks out the door.

Arnold, the woodcutter we met at our shop earlier, appears next to us and sighs heavily. He's a little shorter than Johann, but still tall, about Felix's height. His blond hair is down, and it's thick with a slight wave in it. He wears a coarse cotton shirt and a leather vest, different from the dusty clothing he wore when he brought us the stack of wood.

He's a likable sort of man, which makes me suspicious of him.

"That's our Frida," he says. "She's…well, she's sweet, even if she makes those atrocious things. We humor her, placing them in our gardens—tucking them away so they won't scare visitors."

I look back at the ceramic monster. "Why does she make them?"

"We don't really know. There was an incident in the woods when she was a child. She got lost overnight, and when they found her…she didn't talk for years. When she was around seventeen, she started making those."

"How old is she?" I ask.

"Oh, let's see. I was about ten, I think, and I'm forty-seven now. She was around five, maybe as young as four."

I nod.

"You don't have to keep it," he says, but then he extends his hands in a plea. "But…"

"Oh, he's not that bad." Felix takes the redcap from me and holds it out to study it, chuckling to himself. "Would you look at that—his painted, blood-red eyes match his wee little stocking cap. And if he keeps away monsters, he might warn off traveling salesmen."

"Thank you for understanding." Arnold clasps Felix's shoulder warmly. "Be careful heading home. I'm sure you've heard about the…"

"Wolf attacks?" I say when it seems he's reluctant to finish his sentence.

He glances around with a frown, obviously not wanting to upset the others who still linger in the tavern. "I figured someone warned you."

"We'll be careful," Felix assures him. "You take care as well."

Arnold nods and heads into the night.

When we're alone, I look at the redcap. "That's horrifyingly realistic."

Felix frowns. "Even down to the red eyes."

"But if she ran into redcaps as a child…"

"She wouldn't have made it out of the woods alive."

I frown, suddenly suspicious. "When have you seen a redcap?"

Felix merely shrugs and starts toward the door, giving me no choice but to follow him.

The night air is cold, and the village's streetlamps are more sporadic than I'd like. But most businesses have their lamps lit near their entrances, keeping it from being too dark.

"The villagers don't realize there's a werewolf in their midst, do they?" Felix says as we walk.

"No."

"Why didn't the Alliance alert Otis when they realized what was going on?"

"What if the werewolf was Otis? It's too risky."

"But the villagers?—"

"I know," I say softly, acknowledging the frustration in his voice. "I do. But if the werewolf were to find out we were coming, he'd target us immediately, and then the village would have two dead hunters and a werewolf still on the loose. This is the only way."

Felix sighs. "You know what I hate the most?"

"What?"

"I'm questioning everyone. Otis, Arnold, Jane."

"Johann," I add with a laugh.

"Certainly Johann."

I slowly exhale, thinking, "It's probably not Otis, considering he has roots and a family here. Werewolves can and do shift into humans, but they're not good at mimicking people. At best, they might look like a cousin, maybe a sibling. But certainly not a twin."

"What if we're working with a master werewolf shifter?" Felix says lightly as we arrive at our shop. "What then?"

"It's not likely."

He looks down at the ceramic monster. "Where would you like it?"

I frown at the redcap, not wanting it anywhere near my residence. "Around the side, maybe. Put it by the tree."

An icy breeze kicks up as I wait, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

"Hurry up," I call as I climb the porch stairs.

My skin prickles, and I turn, startled to find a figure on the street just beyond the steps. He stands, hands in his pockets, watching me.

"Hello?" I call to Cyril, recognizing the young man's clothing from the tavern.

Instead of answering, he continues down the street.

Felix hurries from the side yard when he realizes we're not alone. "Evening, Cyril," he calls, likely wanting him to know he recognized him.

Disappearing after the last streetlamp, Cyril heads into the orchard-covered hills.

Felix climbs the porch steps, standing next to me. "That young man is strange."

"Do you think he overheard us?" I whisper. "I didn't realize anyone followed us out of the tavern."

Felix looks over, the set of his mouth grim. "He might have."

I shiver, acknowledging we should have been more careful. I should have been more careful. "Let's go inside."

Thoughts of werewolves and villagers are temporarily pushed aside as we enter the shop. It has a smell of abandonment, a hint of dust even though the space is clean. And it's dark.

"Remind me to bring a lantern the next time we're out after dusk," Felix says as I lock the door behind us.

I hear him fumbling with the matches as he tries to light the lamp. Eventually, one catches, its glow like a small beacon in the pitch-black room.

Moments later, the lamp comes to life, casting a large radius of light and bringing the mess of clocks into view. There's something eerie about them all, perhaps because they're all jumbled in the center of the room.

"We should check the windows to make sure they're locked," I say, wishing I would have thought to do it before we left.

"I already did."

I look at Felix, surprised. "You did? When?"

"Right after Otis left, when you first started unpacking."

"All right. Good." I start up the stairs to our apartment, and Felix follows with the lamp. We lock this door, too, closing us in the small, cozy space.

"It's cold." Felix heads to the fireplace. "I'll start a fire. Why don't you get ready for bed?"

I hover near the door.

He looks over at me, amused. "Is there a problem?"

There are a dozen problems, at least. Felix's smile. His handsome face. The memory of his hand on my back as he guided me into the tavern. The look in his eyes at the autumn ball. All those and more.

I watch him stack kindling, frozen in place like a spooked deer. He blows on the small flames, tending them with great care until a fire crackles in the hearth. Then he rises, turning toward me.

Reluctantly, I drag my eyes to his. My mouth is dry, and I can't tell if I'm scared or exhilarated.

He crosses the room to stand in front of me, raising his brows. "Talk to me."

I swallow, deciding to be honest. "This feels wrong."

"Which part?"

"The part where I share a room, a bed , with a man. Even if we're on a job, it's not right."

He reaches for my hand, thumbing the golden band. "A man you're married to."

"Not really."

"Very much really." He smiles. "Cat, you're not doing anything scandalous."

"But you don't intend to stay married to me. So, this is…" I huff out a breath, unnerved by the conversation.

His smile becomes crooked. "The chance of us annulling this marriage is slim. I knew that when I signed my name. I believe you did as well."

I swallow, my heart racing. "What do you mean?"

But Felix doesn't answer. He merely drops my hand, still smiling. "I'll sleep by the fire tonight if it will make you feel better."

I stand here, hesitating, but Felix goes about his business, just as he claimed he was going to do.

"Are you going to stare at me while I sleep?" he asks when he stretches out on the floor in front of the hearth, adjusting his pillow and then covering himself with a blanket.

Rolling my eyes, I go into the bedroom and close the door behind me.

Twenty minutes later, I crawl into bed, gently hugged by the clean linens. And though I've slept alone my entire life, tonight, I can admit it would have been nice to have company.