29. Catriona

29

CATRIONA

F or the first time, we welcome patrons inside the shop.

"If you'd been smart, you would have waited until after the full moon to open your shop," Atticus says to me quietly, eyeing the tourists who idly browse the clocks.

"Our neighbors would become suspicious if we didn't open our doors for the jubilee. They've been going on for a week now about the money it brings into the village."

Nearby, Felix chats with an older gentleman about the winding mechanisms in anniversary clocks, sounding deceivingly well-educated.

"Who did you meet this morning while wandering the streets?" I ask Atticus.

"We ran into Otis, the town reeve. He's manning the apple bobbing station."

"Jolly fellow, isn't he?"

"If I hadn't seen him today, I would suspect he was your wolf."

I nod, agreeing. "Who else?"

"There was a man selling strudel from a stand near the front of the festival. I think he said he owned the bakery."

"Friedrich? Well-dressed? Thin mustache?"

He nods. "That's him."

"Was a woman with him? She'd be about his age, prim and pretty."

"I didn't see a woman."

Jane and Friedrich are almost always together. It's strange that today, while the entire town is on holiday, she's not by his side.

"Who else did you meet?"

"Johann, the man who runs the general goods store next door."

"Felix will be so disappointed. He's been hoping he's our wolf."

"We also met a few people in the tavern when we stepped in for lunch—a brown-haired man who appeared to be in charge and a barmaid who attempted to flirt with me."

"Was she pretty?"

"Passingly so."

"That was probably Millie."

He nods. "Whatever her name was, I believe it started with an M."

So, either Millie or Mitzi, but judging from the interaction, I think it's safe to assume it was Millie.

"Will you and Ambrose watch the shop for us?" I ask. "There's someone I'd like to find."

"I'm sure we'll manage."

I wait until Felix is finished with his conversation. He takes what looks like a great deal of money from the man, slides it into the lockbox, and then places a "sold" sign on the largest grandfather clock.

"You sold it?" I ask, surprised.

Leaning in close, Felix whispers, "I'm not half bad at this."

"Benjamin will be elated." I glance around to make sure no one is close enough to overhear us. "I want to see if we can find Jane."

"Jane?" He looks surprised. "The schoolteacher?"

"Our list is dwindling, but she remains on it."

"No offense, but the werewolf seemed a bit brawny to be female, don't you think?"

"The monsters are far larger in their wolf form," I remind him. "And the wolf doesn't have to be female to take a human woman's shape."

"If she is the wolf, I imagine Friedrich will be in for a shock."

"Better he finds out now than when she kills him."

"Excellent point." He glances at Ambrose and Atticus, noting that they're already assisting patrons. "Let's go."

The streets are busy, and I recognize very few people. The main festival is on the north side of the village, just past the closest bridge and in a cleared field near the nearby orchards.

"Atticus said Friedrich has a stand," I tell Felix. "Let's see if we can find it."

Fiddle music and the smell of hot spiced cider fills the air, giving the afternoon a merry feel. Dozens of plump orange pumpkins adorn porches and entries, along with bales of straw, bundled wheat, and homemade scarecrows.

"Otis and Hildie really outdid themselves," Felix says.

The village reeve and his wife spent the last several days hanging festive autumn wreaths on all the lampposts and stringing red and orange ribbons between the shops. The streamers crisscross overhead, casting long shadows on the street.

Fallen leaves litter the cobblestones like confetti. Children run over them, wearing costumes that have been stitched together with remnants from their mother's fabric collections. They're dressed as princesses, knights, fairies, and all sorts of woodland creatures.

It's so festive, it reminds me of my own harvest tradition.

"This will be the first year since I was sixteen that I'm going to miss the Warrington's Costume Ball," I say, realizing it's been a year since I donned the bluebird costume that gave me Felix's favorite nickname.

"You sound a little wistful."

"I am, I suppose. I always look forward to it."

"We have, what, two more weeks before the end of the month? Plenty of time to find our werewolf and head home for the harvest celebration."

"I'm not so sure. We're running out of suspects, heading directly toward a dead-end. We've missed something, but I can't figure out what."

Felix takes my hand, squeezing it. "We're going to find the werewolf, Cat." He pauses, smiling to himself.

"What?" I ask warily, even though I can tell from his smirk I might not want to know.

"You're Catriona, and you hunt werewolves."

"Yes…"

"A Cat hunting a dog."

I roll my eyes. "You're just now figuring that out?"

He laughs. "Apparently, I'm slow."

We weave through the crowds, greeting Annika when we see her at her family's apple stand selling cider, apple butter, and the pies we baked.

"Luther is with her," Felix points out as we continue forward.

Even though we were already fairly certain he wasn't the wolf, I nod, feeling discouraged.

"There's Friedrich's stand." Felix waves to the baker as we fight the crowds to reach him.

"Hello, neighbors," Friedrich says warmly. "Are you enjoying your first jubilee?"

"It's lovely," I say, and I would mean it if circumstances were different. But as it is, I see every man, woman, and child as a walking werewolf target.

"Where's Jane?" Felix asks casually.

"She's feeling ill today." Friedrich's good mood dims. "Poor thing, she was so looking forward to the jubilee. It's her first, too, you know."

"That's a shame," Felix says. "But there are a few more days. Hopefully, she'll feel better tomorrow."

"Did you get a chance to see her?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Her grandmother said she's shut herself inside her room all day."

I suck in a breath and hold it, trying not to give anything away. "That's awful. I hope she feels better soon."

We make way for paying customers, heading back toward the shop.

My heart beats quickly as my mind races. I never truly suspected Jane, but now that I think about it, that makes her even more suspicious.

"Should we pay her a visit?" Felix asks.

"And do what? Demand to see her and barge into her room?"

"Her grandmother is old—I think you can take her."

I snort out a laugh and then bite my lip, thinking. "She lives with her grandparents. They know her."

"Maybe some wolves are better at shifting than you're giving them credit for."

I let out a long sigh, smiling when I spot Arnold and Otis. "Maybe."

"Good afternoon," I say to them. "I heard you were manning the apple bobbing stand, Otis."

"I was most of the morning, but Hildie has taken over."

Felix scans the crowd. "It seems the jubilee is going well."

Otis smiles, delighted. "It's one of our best turnouts, I believe. I'm glad news of the attacks didn't…" He winces. "Well, I'm glad people came."

I don't share his enthusiasm, but I hold my tongue.

"We need to get back to the shop," Felix says.

"I saw it was open." Otis nearly bounces on his toes; he's so excited for us. "Who's running it while you're out?"

"A few friends came for the jubilee," Felix says smoothly. "They're there now."

"Splendid," Otis says. "Well, go on now. There's a lot to see, and do, and eat. We'll let you enjoy your afternoon."

We say our goodbyes, and then Felix asks me, "Is there anyone else you want to look for before we return?"

Slowly, I shake my head. "I don't think so. We'll leave the rest to Cyril. For now, why don't we go back?"

And tomorrow, we'll look for Jane.

The second day of the jubilee is just as chaotic as the first, with even more tourists wandering Braunwin's streets, if possible.

Felix and I are halfway to Jane's grandparent's cottage to the west of the village when Cyril weaves through the crowd, looking like he's on a mission. When he spots us, he raises a hand to get our attention, hurrying over and scowling when people step in his way.

"Good morning," Felix says when he finally reaches us. "You look like you have news."

"I've discovered how Frida makes her ceramic redcaps."

I glance around to ensure no one is listening and then lean in. "How?"

"She sets traps, luring them in with meat she steals from the tavern's kitchen, and takes them deep into the forest. She then heaves them into a spring-fed pool, cage and all, and when she fishes them out…" He extends his hands. "They look like little statuettes. She then sits by the pool's edge, paints on details, and dresses them in the little outfits she crafts."

Felix and I stare at him, mouths slightly agape, trying to make sense of it. After a moment, Felix says, "I think you should show us this pool."

"All right."

After a quick detour to the shop to tell Atticus and Ambrose where we're going, we follow Cyril down the street.

Our guide grumbles as he dodges people, obviously not as taken with the jubilee as Otis and Bruno.

"Felix!" Millie calls from the tavern's front porch when she spots us, sauntering down the stairs.

"Oh good," I say. "That's what today was missing—Millie."

She gives my husband a radiant smile. "I haven't seen you in days. Tell me the truth—you're avoiding me, aren't you?"

I scan her green, white, and red dress. "I see you're in mourning."

She rolls her eyes, reaching for Felix's arm like she's going to pet it. "Why would I mourn the old drunken fool?"

I catch her wrist, and not because I'm jealous. My eyes slide to the long, healing cut on her forearm, and my heart picks up its pace. Slowly, I lift my eyes to hers. "What did you do to your arm?"

She laughs, yanking out of my grasp. "I was crawling over Abner's fence last week when his wife came home—don't ask why; that's not important." She winks at Felix. "Anyway, I caught it on a broken post. You should have seen the blood. I thought Belinda was going to pass out."

I stare at the healing wound, my mind racing. I meet her smug gaze, and suddenly, I know she's our wolf.

But how ?

It's not possible when she grew up in the village and has a sister she's so close to.

Her lips curl into a smile. "I didn't realize you cared so much, Catriona. I promise I'm just fine." She leans in close. "It takes a lot to get me down."

I meet her eyes, tempted to pull my pistol from my thigh and shoot her now. But I can't, not in front of all these people.

Not until I'm positive.

"Millie," Bruno calls from the tavern. "You said a ten-minute break, not an hour. We need you."

"Duty calls," she purrs, waving as she turns. "Remember not to stay out too late. It's dangerous."

I glance at Felix as soon as she disappears through the door, swallowing hard. He's pale, his mind racing to the same conclusion as mine.

"It's a good walk to the spring," Cyril says, oblivious. "We should get moving."

"Greg," I call as we follow Cyril through the streets, confident no one will think I'm talking to myself when Felix and Cyril are with me. "Keep an eye on Millie, the blonde-haired barmaid. I think she's our wolf."

Having heard me, Cyril turns sharply, his eyes flying wide.

"Keep walking," I tell him.

" The barmaid with the light hair ?" Greg says.

"That's right. Let us know when she leaves the tavern. We're headed into the woods to find a pond Cyril says Frida's been visiting."

" I can't watch for her until dark, " he reminds us.

"She won't make a move until then anyway. Just circle the village as soon as you can."

" I'll let you know where she goes, " he promises.

"You think Millie is the wolf?" Cyril says incredulously. "But she's…"

"Pretty?" I say wryly.

"No, she's dim. You said werewolves are smart."

"They're smart enough to pretend to be dim," I say darkly. "But one thing is troubling me—she has too many connections. She grew up here. People know her."

"That's true, but the girls were gone for a long time," Cyril says, leading us onto the path that eventually goes into the woods.

I stop in my tracks. "What?"

"Their aunt saved all she could and sent them to a boarding school in Valette when they were about eleven, I think. They only came back last year when she passed away. There was no one else to take care of their father."

Felix swears under his breath and then says, "Millie would change a lot in over ten years. Enough that a werewolf could replicate her, don't you think?"

"Yes, but…what about Belinda? Surely, she'd know if her sister suddenly changed? If not her face, her personality?" I rub my forehead, a sudden pain throbbing at my temples.

"You'd think," Cyril says. "Maybe she's not our werewolf after all."

But my intuition—and the cut on the arm that I gave her myself—is telling me she is.