16. Catriona

16

CATRIONA

I gasp a little, as they expect. "Surely not?"

"It's just a theory," Luther assures me, his tone too tired and heavy for his age. "I probably shouldn't have mentioned it, but…"

But his fiancée and her family are in danger.

Unless he's the werewolf, and then this is an interesting cover. I've never seen a wolf posing as an official before.

Felix leans forward. "Do you suspect anyone?"

"There is someone—" Carl begins.

"Gossip is dangerous," Arnold cuts him off. "For all we know, the werewolf has never even come into the village."

Carl frowns at his father-in-law. "I'm just saying, out of all the people in Braunwin, if someone were a werewolf, it wouldn't surprise me if it were Cyril."

Cyril.

"Why?" Felix asks.

"Have you met him? The young man is strange and antisocial. He always has been."

"He was in the tavern a few nights ago." I nod to Arnold, wondering if he remembers.

"He tries to be friendly," Arnold answers. "He's just had a hard time of it. People began to avoid him after…well, they just avoid him." He turns to Carl. "Leave Cyril alone. The poor boy has had a hard life."

"He's not a boy anymore," Heidi argues, defending her husband. "And Carl's right. If anyone were to pick up the infection, it would be him. He's always hunting alone in the woods."

Most people believe the legend—that werewolves are created like vampires, through a bite. But werewolves don't steal human bodies and claim them.

"Why do people avoid him?" I ask.

"Because he murdered his parents," Mrs. Dahlheimer says.

Felix goes still beside me.

"He didn't murder them, Mother," Arnold says with a heavy sigh. "It was a fire—an accident."

She primly places her hands in her lap. "So you say."

"So the judge in Hellenford said," Arnold argues.

"Let's say Cyril is a werewolf," Felix interrupts. "Has he acted any differently lately?"

"How could we tell?" Heidi answers with a sad shake of her head. "He's always been so odd."

"And what do you think, Luther?" I ask, observing him carefully.

He looks pensive, sitting back in his chair. "I couldn't say, really. I don't know anyone in the village well, save the people in this house. If I were?—"

A knock at the door makes us all jump.

Our small group laughs, everyone a bit unnerved.

Arnold rises. "We're not expecting anyone else. I wonder who that might be?"

A minute later, he leads Belinda into the room. I groan inwardly, looking behind her for her flirtatious sister. But she appears to be alone.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I don't suppose any of you has seen Millie?" She wrings her hands at her waist. "She and Father had a row, and she took off. I thought she'd go to the tavern, but she's not there."

"I haven't seen her all day," Heidi says, her face softening. "But I'm sure she's fine."

"She can't disappear like this, not while…" Belinda sighs, her eyes traveling to us. "I'll let you get back to your evening."

"Stay," Arnold insists. "There's no reason to go back and worry. Millie will show up when she shows up. You know your sister."

"We insist," Heidi adds.

Belinda glances at me, obviously uncomfortable. But reluctantly, she nods.

The only open spot is next to me on the settee. I scoot closer to Felix, making room for her even though I'm not particularly happy she joined the dinner party.

The conversation changes from werewolves to the apple jubilee. Belinda sits stiffly beside me for several minutes and then turns her head. Quietly, so the others won't overhear, she says, "I'm sorry about my sister."

"What about her?"

"You know. We both know. Heidi and Annika put up with her because we have history, but there's no excuse for her behavior."

"I trust my husband," I whisper, startled when I realize it's true.

She sighs. "I'd hoped we might be friends."

It's not fair to judge the woman for her sister's actions, even if the situation has left an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

"Of course we can be," I say.

Relieved, Belinda brushes a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd like that."

"Do your sister and father argue often?" I ask.

"You know about him, I'm assuming?"

"I've heard a little."

"I would be surprised if you hadn't. He's getting worse. I swear, he's not even the same man we grew up with."

That catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's nothing. He's just…well, it's the alcohol. And I'm worried he's ill—he's grown so haggard in the last year; I barely recognize him. But he refuses to go to a doctor."

I tuck the information away, adding him to our list of suspects. We might have to pay the man a visit.

"But never mind all that." She forces a smile. "Millie always says I'm a rain cloud. Let's speak of happier things. How do you like the village?"

Before I can answer, Annika steps into the parlor. She smiles, acknowledging us. "Hello, everyone. And Belinda! You're here, too. How lovely." Luther's fiancée is blonde like her sister and father, with dark brown eyes and a gracious smile. "We're ready to serve dinner. Shall we go to the dining room?"

"So, who's at the top of your list so far?" Felix asks as we walk down the dark lane on our way back to our shop.

The air has a bite to it, the breeze almost bitter. I clutch my shawl around my shoulders, wishing I'd listened to Felix earlier and worn something warmer. "Cyril seems suspicious—but almost too suspicious. Werewolves are usually well-liked."

"And he's lived here his entire life. People would notice if he looked different."

"Most likely. Though, if they don't see him often…" I shrug. "No matter, I don't want to discount him just yet."

"What about Luther?"

"No one had met him before the first attack, which makes him a possibility—but he doesn't feel right either."

"There's still Johann," Felix says, like a dog on a bone.

"Yes, and possibly Belinda and Millie's father."

"The old drunk?" Felix asks. "Wouldn't they realize if he were suddenly a different person?"

"Belinda said she's worried he's ill—that he's become almost unrecognizable this last year. I'd like to meet him at least."

Felix looks at me, frowning in the light of a nearby streetlamp. "Are you warm enough?"

"If I say I'm not, that's as good as admitting you were right, and I can't have that."

He laughs, shrugging out of his jacket. "Here. Wear this."

"You'll freeze."

"It was almost too warm in the house, and I got a bit overheated. I'll be fine."

I pull off my shawl, letting him help me into the jacket. It's too big, but it blocks the breeze and smells like Felix. I hug myself, relishing the warmth. "Thank you."

"We're out at night again," he muses as we walk.

"I'm armed."

"As am I." A grin tugs at his mouth. "Where are you hiding your weapons, bluebird?"

"None of your business." I have a dagger inside the leg of my boot, a pistol strapped to my thigh, and a sedative-laced dart hidden in the comb in my hair.

Felix chuckles. "I miss sparring with you."

"You do not. You hate training."

"Should we practice tonight?"

"Where?"

"There's plenty of room in the shop."

I roll my shoulders. They're tight, and I feel sluggish from days without exercise. "If you really want to."

"What will you give me if I best you?"

"You won't best me, so there's no reason to make bets."

He laughs, sounding abundantly amused. We turn the corner and step onto the cobblestone street. Just as we begin to cross the southern bridge, I notice voices. A low, seductive male growl is followed by an inebriated female giggle.

In the tavern's shadow, a man and woman stand. Her back is to the side of the building, and he leans against her, pinning her in place as he kisses her.

Embarrassed, I look away and walk a little faster. Unfortunately, Millie's not about to let us pass.

"Evening," she calls, playing up her accent again, pulling her hands free and nudging her gentleman friend back slightly. "What are the two of you doing out after dark?"

I hold back a sigh, deciding to let Felix deal with her.

"Your sister is looking for you," he says. To his credit, instead of amused, he sounds impatient.

She giggles again, a few drinks past drunk. "I'm not missing, am I, Norris?"

"Not missing at all." The man kisses her again. "I know right where you are."

"Stop," she titters. " Norris. "

Rolling my eyes, I begin walking.

Felix continues with me. Quietly, he says, "That woman is wolf bait if I've ever seen it."

"I don't recognize the man she was with. Have we met him?"

He shakes his head. "I don't believe so."

I pause, groaning, hating what I'm going to say. "We need to take her home."

"We don't have to, Cat. She's a grown woman."

"For all we know, he's our wolf. And she's had far too much to drink to make good decisions."

Felix frowns, studying me. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"No, I don't want to do it. But I also don't want her death on my conscience. And besides, this will give us an excuse to meet her father."

Felix exhales. "So, no sparring?"

"Not tonight." Before we turn back, I look to the sky. "Greg? Are you awake?"

I feel the dragon's presence enter my head seconds before he says, " I'm here. "

Then it sounds like he yawns.

"You weren't sleeping again, were you?"

" What do you expect me to do? You haven't given me a task . My highly specialized services are wasted on this job. "

"I told you to monitor Cyril," Felix says, letting me know Greg has chosen to share the conversation with both of us.

" Is that the rat man? You never gave me a description. "

"Rat man?" I mouth to Felix.

He shakes his head. "I'll explain later."

"We have a task for you tonight," I tell Greg. "Circle the village for a while. We might need you."

" What are you doing ?" the dragon asks.

"We have to take a tipsy barmaid to her house," I say scathingly.

" Is that in your job description? "

"No, but her father might be our wolf, and we haven't had an opportunity to meet him yet."

" Very well. I'll be nearby if you need me. "

"All right," I say wearily. "Let's go pry Millie away from her dark stranger."