Snorting, I pick at my fingers. “It’s a long story.”
Smile plastered to her face, she reaches down into her sack and pulls out a bottle of liquor. “I’ve got time, if you do.”
“I’m a year younger than you, remember?”
“Who’s gonna tell? The ghosts here?”
Chuckling, I glance around the abandoned house. “I’m guessing they don’t talk much.”
“I wish they did. Be nice to have some answers. What do you say? Catch up a bit?”
The hours pass in what seems like mere minutes, both of us lost in laughter and memories, and it’s only when Brie glances down at her watch that I notice it’s dark outside.
My muscles lurch with panic. “What time is it?”
“After eight.”
“Shit!” I jump up from the sleeping bag we spread out over the floor like a blanket and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m late. Um. I have to go.”
“What’s going on?”
“I have a meeting.”
“At eight o’clock at night?”
“It’s at the club. Mr. Bedroo … I mean, Bergeron is holding something of mine hostage, and I need to get it back.”
“He mentioned that.” A look of concern claims her expression as she pushes to her feet. “Listen, be careful around him, okay? He’s pretty on the outside, but that man will eat you up and spit you out. They don’t call him Rougarou for nothing.”
“Rougarou?”
“’Round here, it’s what we call werewolves.”
Ha! Is that ever fitting for the man who, for whatever reason, brings to mind the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.
“Rumor is, back when he was a boy, he was bitten by a wolf in the woods. Apparently, his daddy scared it off with a gun. Only problem is? Ain’t too many wolves on Chevalier, so it’s hard to say whether it’s true, or not. Some say it might’ve been someone’s pet, others called him a liar. Either way, the man’s got a darkness in him.” She slips her bag over her head and across her body. “I’d keep my distance, if I was you.”
“You knew him back then?”
“Oh, right. I forgot, you used to have a fancy private tutor.”
Private tutor. Confused, I mentally weed through my memories for a face, but the only one I remember is my father’s. Sitting at the table for hours while he taught me math, the constellations, writing. We’d venture into the woods some days, where he’d teach me about nature and life. I’ve no recollection, at all, of a tutor, or any formal schooling.
“Yeah, you didn’t go to the public schools like the rest of us lowly folks,” she teases. “He was two grades higher than Marcelle.” Which would put him about seven years older than Brie and me. “Was a time he was captain of the football team. Chevalier’s golden boy. But then something happened. He changed. Everything about him changed.”
“What happened to him?”
“No one knows. All hearsay. Rumors.”
“Well, I’m proof you can’t always trust the rumors. Anyway, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to go.” One thing I know for certain about the guy is he won’t appreciate my being late.
“No, it’s okay. I have a policy of avoiding that place on my day off, but if you need a ride, I can drop you off.”
“No, that’s okay. I can drive.”
“Well, I’ll get going.” She pulls a piece of paper from her purse and jots down a phone number, which will be essentially useless, and an address. “In case you decide to sleep somewhere less … creepy. Here’s my address. It’s a little cramped, with Marcelle and JayJay, but we’ll make room for you.”
“I’ll keep in touch. I promise.”
“Good. I know where you live, if you don’t.”
We part on a hug, and I wait for her to leave before I scramble down the driveaway, remembering I parked my truck in the woods.
Gravel crunches beneath my boots, while I make my way down the long drive, watching the tail lights of Brie’s car grow distant. The woods have always been a place of comfort for me, the sounds of animals and insects something of a kinship. But there’s something about this house and these woods. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but an invisible malevolence hangs on the air, adding a sharpness to the surrounding trees and brush.
I click on the flashlight as I veer off the trail and into the belly of the woods, where the beams of moonlight can’t reach. Sticky humidity clings to my skin like a thick soup just waiting to be lapped up by